Prelude To War: Summer
by Mary the Filker
Summary: Sequel to PTW:Arrivals & Meetings. Harry and his friends begin training with the Order for the coming conflict. Meanwhile, security at Hogwarts is examined for flaws. Ships not a focus a few OCs. AU as of HBP, though some ideas from there may get in later
1. Summer Fun

Disclaimers: Harry Potter and his world belong to J.K. Rowling and to her assorted publishers, not to me. Antonia Dumarest _is_ mine, as are the assorted Snape and Dumarest relatives, and may be used with permission; e-mail me.

Spoilers: All five HP novels.

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**PRELUDE TO WAR—SUMMER**

(Sunday, 14 July 1996)

Part One: **SUMMER FUN**

I.: Arrivals

Ron and Ginny Weasley let go of their Portkey at Hogsmeade Station and headed over to the waiting Hogwarts carriage; Neville Longbottom, who had been Apparated in, met them there.

"Hi—are there any more coming?" he asked Ginny.

"Well, for now it'll just be us, the twins, Harry and Hermione; all of them should already be there," she replied. "Luna's coming later this week or early next week; she won't be back from Sweden until then."

"Yes, I will," said a voice behind Ginny.

All three Gryffindors spun around. "Luna!" Ginny cried. "What happened? We thought you'd still be in Sweden!"

"Well, we did too—but we found an entire herd of Crumple-Horned Snorkacks almost right off, and Daddy convinced the Swedish Ministry to make them a protected species," Luna replied. "It'll all be in the next edition of the _Quibbler_. Then he got an owl from the Headmaster inviting me to come back early, and said I could do that directly; this way I didn't even have to unpack from Sweden." She indicated the carriage. "My things are loaded in already."

All four climbed into the carriage for the ride up to the school.

"I can't believe I agreed to this," Neville told Ron as they rode.

"I can; it's the three weeks _before_ the summer Potions session that I'm looking forward to," Ron replied. "Look—flying combat classes, exploring the school—it'll almost make the time with Snape worthwhile."

"And the Junior Order," Neville added quietly.

"Besides, there'll be a lot more of you when the class starts," Ginny pointed out. "Didn't you say Parvati and Seamus are in on that class?"

"Yes, and a fair number of other folks, including Slytherins," Neville replied. "Everyone who got an E on their Potions OWL was invited; not everyone will have accepted. That means probably Malfoy _won't_ be in it, or Hermione; they will have both gotten Os."

"Well, with five of us Gryffindors, and my twin brothers, we can endure Snape for a month or so," Ron replied. "They're here for a revision to sit their NEWTs, since they left before the NEWTs were given."

"Also, there's supposed to be a summer DA for those who were members last year and are here this summer," Neville said. "All of us will be in it, I guess. But what are you and Luna going to be doing here, Ginny? You're Fifth-Years and haven't even taken your OWLs."

"We're getting a couple of the extra-credit seminars," Ginny replied. "I won't be in Potions with you boys, but I'll be in the summer DA and the aerial combat course. We'll also be in the Junior Order."

"And I'll be working with Professor Flitwick; some of what he wants he needs another Ravenclaw for," Luna added.

At the main entrance, Professor McGonagall greeted them. "Welcome, all of you," she said. "Leave your bags and your pets; the House Elves will take care of them. You'll all be up in the Gryffindor Sixth-Year dormitories; there will not be enough of you here to need to divide you by age, and until more Ravenclaws arrive, it is senseless to make Miss Lovegood stay in Ravenclaw alone. Dinner is in one hour, at six, in the Staff Room; I presume you all know where that is?" At the nods from Ron and Neville, she continued. "Then I suggest you go up and clean up for dinner; the password is 'Summer Fun'." She managed a wry smile. "Needless to say, _I_ did not select it; the Headmaster did. He has his reasons, no doubt. I will see you at dinner."

"He always has reasons," Luna said softly, as they turned and headed for the staircase leading to Gryffindor Tower. "It's that his reasons are his and not just anyone's."

The four went on up the stairs; when they arrived at the portrait of the Fat Lady, they gave the summer password. Upon entrance to the Common Room, they were surprised to see none other than Harry sitting there on a couch, reading. Hearing them enter, he rose and turned to greet them with a smile.

"Hi, all!" he said. The others surrounded him, all asking questions at once.

"Hold on, guys—I can only answer one at a time!" Harry managed to get out after getting hugged by first Ginny, then Luna, then surprisingly, Ron. When they freed him, he went back to the couch and sat down; Ron and Ginny immediately flanked him and Neville sat across from him in a chair; Luna pulled up a footstool and sat near Neville's chair.

"Right," he began. "Fred and George are already here; you know we'll all be sharing the Sixth-Year dorm with them. Well, not _you_, Ginny and Luna," he added, as Ron's ears pinked and Ginny giggled; Luna's usual bemused expression didn't change. "You'll be in with Hermione; she arrived this morning and she'll meet us at dinner. There's a new Professor; I've only met her once so far, but she seems pretty decent; I think she's older than Professor McGonagall, though."

"How long have you been here?" asked Ginny. 

"Since last Sunday; it's been quite a week for me. I promise I'll tell you all about it; but I'd rather do it when we're all in one place, and right now Hermione's in the library."

"Why am I not surprised?" muttered Ron, with a little grin, as the others chortled. "I know that was at least one of the inducements for her to come this time—that, and lots of extra credit for her records."

"It was, indeed," Harry agreed. "She barely arrived this morning, and is already asking the Professors what topics they'd like her to begin with." That was met with a lot of smiles and rolled eyes; all of them were quite familiar with Hermione's obsession with anything new to study.

II: Dinner and Discussions

The students made their way to the Staff Room. The Sixth-Years knew where it was as they had been in it before in Third Year, when Professor Lupin had used the room for Boggart lessons. The first person that the newcomers noticed when they came in was a stranger: a tall, slender, quite elderly Witch with very dark eyes and long, straight, iron-grey hair, tied back in a braid. Harry led all of them over to her and made introductions.

"Professor, these are my friends and fellow Gryffindors, Ginny and Ron Weasley and Neville Longbottom; and this is Ravenclaw Luna Lovegood. You've already met Hermione Granger, and Fred and George Weasley. You lot, this is Professor Antonia Dumarest; she came here from the United States a couple of days ago, but I haven't yet heard what she's teaching." He turned a questioning look to the Witch, who gave him a kind smile.

"I didn't say, did I?" Her accent wasn't one any of them recognized as American. "I'm the new adjunct Potions Mistress. Your Professor Snape is going to be busy this summer, and busier this fall; I'm his new helper. But come—I think they're ready to serve." She led the students to the one long table in the room, and indicated their places along one side.

Dinner was as generous and varied as if it were in the Great Hall. The students wondered about their new Professor, so Ron began with what had been on his mind since the introduction.

"Ma'am? Are you related to the Dumarest Apothecaries family?" asked Ron.

The Professor gave a light laugh. "You could say that, Mr. Weasley," she replied. "I married the man who was Head of Family and owned that company when it was still based in France. It was we who saw what both Grindelwald and Hitler were up to, and left; Grindelwald wanted the company any way he could get it, and Hitler had no use for magical folks unless they conformed to his orders, his notions of race, and his Aryan-supremacist master plan—which is far too close to what Tom Riddle is up to, thank you very much, with his Pureblood bigotry nonsense. I got enough of that from my father and younger brother, which is why I left and married out of country. There's another parallel I find ironic with both Hitler and Riddle: are any of you well enough versed in Muggle history to tell me what it is?"

Hermione answered that one (as everyone was certain she could). "Neither of them are, or were, what they professed to hold superior," she replied. "Riddle is a halfblood; his father was a Muggle. Hitler was short and dark, not at all the tall, blond Nordic type he favored."

Professor Dumarest smiled. "Full marks, Miss Granger," she said happily. "I say that this is evidence for the Muggle Studies course needing to be upgraded, to include recent Muggle history. There are too many lessons for us to learn from them. Minerva, now I see what you meant by why the Pureblood bigots despise her; she's smarter than they are!" Hermione blushed, as Professor McGonagall favored her with a smile.

The conversation, thankfully, turned lighter; upon being asked, the new Professor told a few stories of life in the Wizarding United States, and asked questions about Hogwarts. It transpired that she was a Hogwarts alumna herself.

"Yes, I went to Hogwarts, a _long_ time ago," she said with a smile. "I was in Ravenclaw, quite a few years before Professor Flitwick became the Head of House here or even taught. This was, of course, before I was married to Robert; he was French, and our children went mostly to Beauxbatons, as he did. But when we immigrated to the United States, we sent our children to the best of the American Wizarding schools: Salem in Massachusetts, and White Mountain in California. Our grandchildren and further descendants have gone to most of the better Wizarding schools in the States; those of Robert's family who did not leave France, or who returned there after Grindelwald and Hitler both were defeated, went to Beauxbatons for the most part. One of them was one of the girls who came to your Tri-Wizard Tournament."

"So, what brought you back here?" asked Ginny.

"I came back to help Albus Dumbledore with various matters, including teaching here, because of the war," Professor Dumarest replied. "I couldn't do anything the first time around with Riddle, because that was about when Robert had just died and I was still running the business alone; I had my hands full. But now, I see what is happening; I have nothing better to do with my time, and I offered to help. As I told your Headmaster, who, by the way, is an old and dear friend: I am neither too old to stir a cauldron nor to aim a wand. Among my other qualifications, I am still a certified ParaMediwitch: that is something between a nurse and a full Healer. I will be assisting your Madam Pomfrey in the Infirmary when she comes back from her summer holiday, and I'll be the on-call nurse until then." Conversation then stopped while the dessert was brought in.

After dinner, Dumbledore rose from his seat. "Now that we are all decently fed, I would like to return to your Common Room with you, to discuss some of what we are doing this summer." He led the seven Gryffindors and Luna to their Common Room, and when they were all comfortably seated, he cast Silencing Charms and began.

"I need to explain some of the further consequences of your excursion to the Ministry last month," he began soberly. "While we suffered a cruel loss, and all of you were injured in some way, yet there was one major gain: Lord Voldemort was exposed as alive and well, in the presence of the Minister himself. Cornelius Fudge cannot deny it any longer; he saw Voldemort with his own eyes. This is why the Ministry is finally taking some action; you may have seen the notices in the _Prophet_. However, we now have a new problem: the Death Eaters saw all of you, and while most of them are now in Azkaban, there was one rescued by her Master: Bellatrix Lestrange. There is also no guarantee that the others will _stay_ there, either. It is certain that you _will_ be targets, more so than you were. All of your parents and guardians were told as much as they are able to understand, and have consented to your return here for the summer for extra training with specialized instructors." He turned to Hermione. "Miss Granger, there is a reason why I referred only to a summer DA in front of your parents; apart from Mr. Lovegood, they are the only ones of all your parents and guardians who are not in the Order of the Phoenix."

Hermione turned a confused look to Harry. "But surely Harry's Muggle relatives aren't…"

"Are no longer in the picture," Dumbledore cut back in smoothly. "Much has happened the last week or so. I will let Mr. Potter tell you as much as he wishes, but there are two things you all need to know now about his situation: first, that he has been removed from there permanently, and second that he has new guardians: Remus Lupin and Alastor Moody. Both of them are in the Order, in fact have been since the First War."

Ron grinned; he had heard this already from his parents, but still approved. "Wicked," he said softly. He liked Lupin and was somewhat in awe of Moody. Harry managed a small smile.

"That brings me indirectly to the other real reason you are all here, apart from your safety, and the real research you are going to be doing: I intend, as I have already told most of you, to form a junior or auxiliary Order, for those of you who are underage but have something to contribute and wish to do so. You will not be sent on combat missions or do spying, but you can do research, learn defense, and in general prepare for your roles in the Order when you come of age. This will help us in two ways: you will truly be ready when it is time for you to join, and it will take some of the burden off the adults now. We have not so many members that we can afford to waste talents such as yours."

"So, how much of what you told Mum and Dad _was_ true?" Hermione asked.

"All of it, Miss Granger: I merely did not tell them all there was to tell; I dared not. The less they know about the Order and what you are up to, the better off they will be, and the less they can tell. There will be increased security measures around their home and office as well, but they will be discreet ones."

Dumbledore considered for a moment, and then continued. "I will tell you more than I told them, simply because it is you who will be involved. I do intend you to do research for us, so that the adults may use their time for more active roles. I do intend you to help Professor Snape with a special project I have for him. You are the best of the four of you Sixth-Years in Potions, and this is one potion I especially desire to have made; I also intend Professor Dumarest to help with this. I have not decided how I shall apportion the summer restock work, over and above what will be gleaned from the class; but possibly all of you can help with that."

Ginny had been quiet through all this; she now spoke up. "Professor, did you mean what you said at the house, about reopening the Chamber of Secrets?"

"Yes, I did," Dumbledore replied calmly. "Normally during the summer, the staff goes home and only a few of us are here until about a week or so before term; I am usually one who does go home. That will not be the case this summer: we will all have something to do. My personal project for this summer, impelled by the impending war, is to see to it that Hogwarts is in fact as well as in legend the safest place in our world. As you and Harry know, more than the others, Tom Riddle is well-acquainted with the Chamber; I intend to see to it that there is nothing therein that he can use against us. I also intend to borrow the Marauders' Map; I already have permission from the heirs of the Marauders to do so. I understand that most of you are at least familiar with it?"

"I'm not really, Sir," Neville said quietly, "but I know that it's a magical map of the school."

"You will become acquainted with it, Mr. Longbottom," Dumbledore assured him.

"Uh, Professor," Fred began, "the Map shows seven secret passages out of the school to Hogsmeade—"

"Of which Mr. Filch knows four, and one is blocked," George finished.

"_That_ many?" Neville asked in surprise.

"This is why I wish to study the Map myself: I intend to make a better one, to the end of blocking those passages, and any others, to hostile entrance," Dumbledore replied. "I know that the Marauders made it for fun, and wished it to be an aid to mischief: but they made it _too_ well, and now it is a liability if it falls into the wrong hands. One of _them_ is a traitor, knows of the Map, and likely knows enough of its contents to be a danger to us. What he knows, then likely Riddle does too." No one asked for explanations; most of them knew who "Mr. Wormtail" was.

Silence fell over the group; surprisingly, it was Neville who broke it. "How and when do we join the Order, Professor?"

Dumbledore turned to him, and looked directly into Neville's brown eyes. "Is this your true desire, Mr. Longbottom?" he asked quietly.

Neville was unwavering. "It is, Sir," he replied, matching the old man's gaze steadfastly.

"And is it your own desire, or another's?"

"It is my own, Sir. It is part of why I agreed to come here this summer. Mum and Dad were in it, weren't they?"

"Yes, they were." Dumbledore considered for a minute, and then stood. "Very well. If you are not too tired, I will convene such of the Order as are here or can come easily, and we will induct those of you who pass our scrutiny tonight. The sooner we begin, the sooner we will have results. Put on plain school robes or the equivalent; be ready in an hour or so." He bowed slightly, and left.

III: Questions and Answers

When the portrait hole had closed after the old Headmaster, Ron turned to Harry. "Right, mate," he began, "you promised to tell all when Hermione got in here. She's here now, so talk."

Harry rolled his eyes a little, but smiled anyway; he knew that he wouldn't be able to put off his friends any longer. "All right," he agreed. "But if I'm to spend time talking, I want a drink on hand."

As if on cue, a "pop" was heard. "Harry Potter Sir is asking for a drink! Dobby would gladly bring anything that Harry Potter Sir wishes to eat and drink!" Dobby, the rather excitable House-Elf, was almost bouncing in his eagerness.

"Dobby, how about a round of Butterbeers if we have any, or pumpkin juice if we don't," Harry replied. "We just had dinner, so we don't really need anything else."

In a few moments, all the teens had cold drinks on hand. "Be sure to call Dobby if Master Harry Potter Sir wishes anything else!" Dobby said, and then vanished.

Fred shook his head. "Remind me to never hire him to help Mum," he commented. "Can you imagine the two of them arguing it out in the kitchen?" The other Weasleys grinned.

"What if I were to hire him for the Black Mansion?" asked Harry.

"He'd love it," Hermione enthused. "All that work for him to do, and you'd treat him _so_ much more fairly than anyone else would!"

"But what about Kreacher?" asked Ron.

"Well, that's part of what I have to tell you all…" Harry began. "I just don't know where to start."

"At the beginning?" suggested Luna.

"How about first why you left Privet Drive?" added Ginny.

Harry took a deep breath, and began. "All right. But you have to agree not to argue about it, or interrupt much, until I'm all done. A _lot_ happened, and it all started a week before last Friday." He looked over at Neville and Luna. "There are a lot of things I'm going to refer to that you may not know about yet; ask one of us later for details if you don't understand." Both nodded.

Harry began telling of the letters he wrote, and to whom; about Snape's he only said, when asked why, "I was discussing some matters private to us; I'd prefer to keep his privacy. I also was asking for assistance in some other matters." He continued with the visit on Sunday from the three Professors, confirming Remus Lupin's reinstatement, and mentioning the return of his Firebolt; then he continued with the incident with Dudley and the Muggle police, which encouraged his Professors to take him out of there.

"I wish I'd been awake to see them with the Dursleys," Harry said wistfully. "Remus told me that it was something to see. First Snape gave them a generous dose of the _full_ Professor Snape treatment; then the Headmaster laid into them."

Ron was shocked. "_Snape_ tore into those gits?" he asked. "Why? I think they'd be just his type, considering how they treat you!"

Harry shook his head. "Ron, you have to remember one thing: no matter what else he is, _he's_ a Wizard, and a Dark Pureblood at that. _They're_ Muggles related to a Wizard who are anti-magic bigots; that's the very sort of Muggles that Salazar Slytherin most despised."

He took another breath, and continued. "See, before Uncle Vernon showed up, Snape and I…well, we agreed to call things even between us. Half of why he hated me so was because of me looking like my Dad, who with Sirius were his worst enemies in school, much like Malfoy and me, but to whom he owed a Life-Debt that was never paid. I offered to let his saving me from Quirrell jinxing my broom in First Year count as me owing him, so we could call it even. We even did a formal agreement, and Remus, Dumbledore and Fawkes witnessed it. In that, at least, we're even now. I also told all three of them the entire truth about the…rebirth, even more than the interview had; in fact, I _showed_ it to them, using Professor Dumbledore's Pensieve, and I think I now have some of his respect." He ignored the gasps of surprise. "Then there was Mum; while he hated Dad, he's never once said a bad word about Mum; I think he respected her or something. Something about Aunt Petunia reminded him of someone he didn't like, and not at all of Mum. And no matter how much he and Dad detested each other, _I'm_ still a Wizard, and therefore should not be mistreated by Muggles."

"That's a common attitude among Purebloods, especially Old Family types," Neville offered. "What is acceptable for Wizards to do with children is not acceptable coming from Muggles."

"Then there was Dumbledore," Harry continued. "Remus said he had seldom seen him so coldly angry. Now, bear in mind that this was _after_ he found out I'd been one of those that Umbridge cut up with her quill; he's right thoroughly ticked off at _her_, too."

"What's the word on her, anyway?" asked Ron.

"He told Mum and Dad that she's in a locked ward at St. Mungo's, and if she ever gets out, that she's going to trial for everything she did at Hogwarts, and he's going to prosecute it," Hermione put in. "I hope he _never_ looks at _me_ like that; his eyes went as hard as flints for a moment."

"That's how he was at my place, too," Harry agreed. "He intends for her to pay dearly: not only for what she did at Hogwarts, but for the Dementors too. He considers it a matter of honor now, that children under his care were so abused; no one will _ever_ be allowed to get away with something like that again as long as he's in charge here. Angry is putting it mildly; if I were Umbridge and saw his face, I'd find reason to run away, as far and fast as possible."

George grinned. "You should have heard him at the Order meeting: he said that 'after that fiasco, I could have hired a security troll and gotten better teaching'; and he had the same cold look in his eyes you mentioned." The other teens snickered.

"Yeah—_never, _but_ never_ do I want to get on _his_ wrong side," Fred endorsed. "So then what happened?"

"We came here, this was last Sunday night, and I ended up in Remus' summer staff quarters around the corner from the Fat Lady; there was a room made for me." He went on to tell of the shopping, and then the meeting with Lupin and Moody; this interested all the others, as no one had any idea why Moody was chosen as a guardian. Finally, he got to the reading of the will.

"Fred and George know about it, because they were there," Harry began, "and I hope your parents told you two," he added to Ron and Ginny. They both nodded. "Basically, Sirius was a _lot_ richer than any of us realized; he was the last male Black Head of Family, and the Goblins didn't care about his status in our world, only his wishes." He went on to tell them who had inherited what, and that the Malfoys and Lestranges were disinherited; the others were impressed by the size of the estate.

"He also left us the Black Family's shares in Gambol and Japes," George put in. "We'll be looking over the paperwork for that in the next week or so, and see how much of it we own."

"Yeah—and Sirius mentioned that he'd left us enough money to start a branch of our shop in Hogsmeade," Fred added. "In his words: 'Hogwarts deserves it, and Zonko's deserves the competition.'" This brought on a round of snickers and chuckles from the others; they knew the twins' capabilities for salable mayhem.

"The rest he left to Remus and me, including the house," Harry continued, after letting the snickers die down. "We get Kreacher, too, but Sirius thought that he could be allowed to off himself, or be locked in a cottage with a food supply and all those Black portraits he's so faithful to; he's too dangerous to us. He wrote this in May; he had no idea that Kreacher would betray him to his…his death, and I think Dumbledore is going to consult with the senior Hogwarts house-elves on what the proper procedure is for a house-elf who so badly betrays his rightful Master."

"At least he is taking them and their customs seriously," Hermione said approvingly. "Kreacher deserves due process and appropriate treatment just like any other being, no matter how bad he was." Ron scowled; in his eyes, Kreacher deserved whatever happened to him.

Harry took a deep breath. "What he'll get is whatever is appropriate. Anyway, Sirius tasked Dumbledore with that, so Remus and I don't have to really _do_ anything, I think. I just have to go over there soon, probably this week, and formally take possession; that gives the final seal to the Magical Contract where I inherit in place of the children Sirius didn't have, then _my_ wishes are law. I'm a minor, and Dumbledore is my trustee in the law, but the magical part I have to do myself."

"Can you get Madam Black off the wall, then?" asked Fred.

Harry shrugged. "Don't know, yet. But Dumbledore told me that I have to tell her myself that I'm the heir; maybe she'll be mad enough to fall off in shame."

Although a lot of the information was new to him, Neville had not said much of anything through all of this; however, something finally seemed to occur to him. "Did you say that Sirius Black was _the_ last male Head of the Black Family?" he asked thoughtfully.

"Uh-huh, of the direct line, anyway," Harry replied. "That's how he could disinherit the Malfoys and the Lestranges, which are female lines, and pick me, his Godson, to be his heir."

"One thing I learned from Gran was Wizarding genealogy," Neville replied quietly. "Now, I don't remember many details, but it would seem if that's the case, and you're his declared legal heir, you'll become Lord Black as soon as you come of age next year. That includes a whole set of hereditary rights and obligations." That drew some gasps from the girls, and opened Ron's eyes wide.

"Yes, Sirius put all that in the will, in great detail," Harry replied sadly. "After things settle a bit, I have to look over all the paperwork and get some idea of how I'm supposed to handle it all. If anything happens to me before I'm of age, Nymphadora Tonks is next for the titles and the other Black-line-of-descent stuff. She's his second cousin; her mum's the third sister with Narcissa and Bellatrix, and Sirius un-disinherited her. Then it's Arthur Weasley, followed by the rest of the Weasleys in order; he's a distant second cousin or something. Remus is last, only because he isn't related at all and he can't legally have children owing to him being a Werewolf. Remus and Dumbledore are my trustees until I come of age, anyway; if something happens to _them_, it's Professor McGonagall and Arthur Weasley for some things and Andromeda Tonks for others.

"Oh—and there's all of the Potter stuff, too, and I will have to look at all of _that_ paperwork. See, the reason nothing was ever done about it was that Sirius was the only trustee, and he couldn't do anything from Azkaban or on the run. The Muggles never knew a thing about any of it, and Dumbledore only had the Gringotts key. Sirius _did_ hand that off to Remus and Dumbledore, and they're to help me wade through that. But one thing he _did_ do is specifically endorse Mum's will, where she disinherited the Dursleys—except there's another trust fund to be set up _if_ Petunia or Dudley have a magical child, so that they can have more of a choice than I did." He shook his head. "All that stuff, just to maintain one person. I think Sirius did right, giving some of it away."

Harry leaned back in the padded chair he was in. "Of course, all this presupposes I'll _be_ here to worry about it. I have a prior engagement that takes precedence over everything else in my life." At the questioning looks from his friends, he replied, "I'll tell you more about _that_—after tonight, what I'm allowed to tell. There is a great deal going on, and I don't know everything, yet."

IV: Inductions and Introductions

An hour later, the same eight were assembled in the hallway outside the Room of Requirement. All were dressed in plain black school robes, even the twins; this was considered important enough for proper dress.

"Why are you out here with us, Fred?" asked Ron. "I thought you two were already _in_ the Order."

"We are, little brother," Fred replied. "But we're the youngest; we'll be doing the honor guard bit for you to go in with." He looked up, as the door to the Room opened. "I think they're ready for you now."

Professor McGonagall opened the door a bit wider. "Please come in."

Fred led the way in, followed by Harry, Hermione, Ron, Ginny, Luna and Neville; George followed behind Neville. The twins led the others to chairs in front of a long U-shaped table, inside the bottom curve; when the younger students were seated, they stood one on each end of the row. Seated at the table on one side were all the Hogwarts Professors who were in the Order and present during this summer: the four House Heads, Lupin, Dumarest and Hagrid. On the other side were Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Alastor Moody, Honoria Longbottom, Kingsley Shacklebolt, and Nymphadora Tonks; all were soberly dressed except for Dumbledore, whose seat was on the outside of the curve in the center. He stood out in flamboyant red and gold robes with a Phoenix on the back. Perched on a stand on the inner curve of the table was Fawkes, looking remarkably like the Phoenix on Dumbledore's robes.

Dumbledore rose and spoke. "We are convened to judge the first candidates for the new Auxiliary Division of the Order of the Phoenix. While the youth and relative inexperience of the candidates bar them from full membership, they have asked to undertake this responsibility despite that fact. Each candidate has his or her reasons for asking a share of our task. Each one knows the price that we in the Regular Order pay and have paid, and yet they are still willing. Some, in fact, have already paid some of the price at an adult level. This Auxiliary is formed to give such persons a share in the Order's tasks, but a share suited to their capabilities; this is also to be a training ground _for_ the adult Order. In time, this may also be a place for adults who for one reason or another cannot be tasked with a full membership."

He looked at Harry. "Mr. Harry Potter, as this was your idea, you shall be first." He then glanced toward the others. "All of you watch closely; listen to what he will be pledging, and to what will be asked of him. Much the same will apply to each of you, although there will be differences in details. After he has taken his Oath, and if it is accepted, you will have the chance to decline without prejudice before we ask the Oath of you." He turned back to Harry. "If you are still willing to do this, then please rise, come forward next to Fawkes, and hold out your wand towards me, as for a Wizard's Oath; place your other hand on Fawkes' back." Harry rose and did so; Dumbledore drew his own wand and touched its tip to Harry's.

Shacklebolt, Snape, Flitwick and Tonks also stood and drew their wands, but theirs were aimed at Harry. Shacklebolt then said, "Should you prove false or unworthy during this examination, or attempt harm to anyone, you will be dropped where you stand, then Obliviated and removed, never to return. If you are true, no harm shall come to you."

Harry's heart was beginning to race. This was far more solemn than he had expected.

_We _are_ Wizards after all_, he could almost hear Dumbledore's voice saying in his memory of barely a week ago.

_Right,_ _I asked for this; I shouldn't complain that I'm getting what I asked for. And I'd ten times rather face the wands of _these_ four, even Snape, than those of many others I could name._ He nodded to Shacklebolt, acknowledging the risk he was taking, and turned back to Dumbledore, who began the formal questions.

"Your name?"

"Harry James Potter."

"Your age?"

"Fifteen, until the end of this month."

"Is it your true desire to join the Order of the Phoenix?"

"It is."

"Is this of your own will, freely given, or that of another?"

"It is of my own free will."

"Your reasons for joining the Order?"

"To fight against Tom Riddle, who calls himself Lord Voldemort, and his allies, until he and his followers are all dead, imprisoned, or otherwise of no further danger to the Wizarding community."

Harry took a deep breath, and continued. "I have already _been_ fighting this war; I have _knowingly_ faced Tom Riddle in some form or another four times since I returned to the Wizarding world at age eleven, and have survived all four encounters. I will continue to do so; he threatens our entire community. He threatens the lives and well-being of everyone I have ever cared about; he has killed, or had killed, my parents and my Godfather, who were also in the Order, along with many other crimes too numerous to mention."

He took another deep breath, and scanned the rest of the solemn faces before him before returning his gaze to Dumbledore. "The Wizarding world has given me _everything_ in life worth having: friends, family, kindness, love and respect. I cannot even begin to pay what I owe, to all the people to whom I owe such a debt. Even if the Order rejects me, or refuses me aid, I _will_ continue this battle, with or without help or permission, until either Tom Riddle dies fully this time, or until I do, or we perish jointly. Nothing less is acceptable."

Silence encompassed the room for a few moments; then Dumbledore spoke again. "What do you pledge to this end?"

"Everything I have," Harry replied. He stood a little straighter and was now meeting Dumbledore's eyes; his own were filled with determination. "All my gold I offer freely, bar enough for the basics of living, to spend as needed for this war. It is worthless to me if we lose due to lack of funding for essential supplies. The Order already has use of my house, and will continue to do so, regardless of this trial today. I have already promised to give all my efforts to learning what I need to know. To that end, I will put aside all that I must: be it school, sport, romance or careers, and remain focused _only_ on the goal. I have already endured pain, scars, and possession, and have nearly died; I will endure more. And before I allow Tom Riddle and his allies to murder the rest of those I love, I will hazard my life, and give it if I must, to make an end of him. Only victory is acceptable."

There was another long silence; Dumbledore's head bowed slightly for a few moments, although his wand hand was still steady. When he raised it again, he looked around at the other Order members. "Is there anyone here who will speak for the candidate's worth?"

Remus Lupin stood. "I, Remus John Lupin, his guardian and Godfather, do so." He drew and raised his wand. "My word and Wand-Oath I pledge, that this candidate is more than worthy; I have known him through his training and his trials, and he is true."

Dumbledore nodded. "Is there anyone here who will speak against the candidate's worth?"

No one spoke. Harry was certain that Professor Snape would at least give a token protest; but the man's face was as impassive as his wand hand was steady. Molly Weasley was also silent, although he could see sadness in her eyes.

After a proper wait, Dumbledore then continued. "There being no objections, I will administer the Oath. Harry James Potter: by your word, on your wand, on your name and Family, and on your honor as a Wizard: do you join with us freely and of your own will?"

"I do."

"Will you follow the orders lawfully given you by your assigned leaders and by me as the Head of the Order?"

"I will."

"Will you carry out your assigned tasks to the best of your ability?"

"I will."

"Will you stand true to your brothers and sisters in the Order, regardless of age, family, status, or House, and lay aside all other quarrels and feuds, until the Order's goal is achieved?"

"I will."

"Will you aid your brothers and sisters in battle and in peace, as they will you?"

"I will."

"Will you accept the protection of the Order, at such times where it is deemed necessary to further the Order's goal?"

"I…will." This was a little more reluctantly spoken.

"Since this Auxiliary to the Order is your idea, are you cognizant of the risks to those of your friends who are witnessing this and will soon stand forth to take the Oath?"

"I am."

"Are you willing to allow them to take the risks that you are taking, as your brothers and sisters in the Order?"

That one was _much_ harder; Harry had to pause a moment or two in order to frame the correct answer. "I will, _so long as_ each one does so of his or her free will; to further the goal, not _just_ because I am doing it; and so long as they receive the same opportunities that I will be receiving. My first and deepest instinct and desire is to protect my friends and loved ones with all that I have and am. I have bitterly come to realize that I cannot do it alone, but I can if we work together to attain the Order's goal. It is not my place to decide for them, to join or to not join. Their lives are at risk whether they join or not; theirs is the free choice."

"Those are in fact the conditions under which they may join us," Dumbledore replied. He paused for a moment, and then continued. "There being no objections, and the candidate answering freely and truthfully: Fawkes?"

The Phoenix stretched out his neck and gave forth with a burst of song. As he had at Harry's house the week before, he touched his beak to the apex of the two wands; a golden flame shimmered down both wands. That was not all; from the apex another golden flame shot out, split, and met the wand-tips of the four guardians and Lupin, joining them all in a net.

"It is decided, it is accepted, and it is witnessed: so mote it be," Dumbledore intoned solemnly. "Harry James Potter, welcome to the Auxiliary of the Order of the Phoenix. Take your seat beside your elder brothers and sisters." He raised his wand; the golden net vanished, and Fawkes quieted. Another chair materialized behind the end of the table next to Tonks; Harry went around and sat there. The table seemed to stretch to accommodate.

Before another hour had passed, all the other students had also been passed and inducted. While the form of the Oath and questions were different for each, the intent was the same: to ensure that each one was entering freely, true to the words he or she spoke and the promises made.

V. Relaxation and Conversations

After all the formalities were done, Dumbledore closed the session; then he converted the large table to two long side-tables along the walls, leaving the chairs. Snacks and drinks appeared upon both tables.

"I think we have earned a small refreshment break," he told the others with a smile. "After all, we need something with which to toast our new members, before we all succumb to the lateness of the hour and retire."

After the toast, led by Dumbledore, older members and younger ones mixed and mingled freely. Mrs. Weasley had teary hugs for all of the teens ("I'm so proud of you all!"); Moody had a few words for each. Hermione and Ginny began chatting with Professor Dumarest, Neville and his grandmother with Professor Sprout, and Luna with Professor Flitwick. The twins had cornered the Headmaster, and were apparently discussing a new bright idea. Only Harry, presumably the most honored guest, did not mingle; after his hug, and a word or two with Lupin, he sat down alone in one of the chairs sipping at a Butterbeer and nibbling on a chocolate biscuit.

Oddly, it was Ron who noticed that, and something else: Harry was quiet and not at all in a party mood. Ron remembered the look in Harry's eyes when he had taken his place at the table (his back had been to the other teens when he took the Oath). Thinking back over what his friend had said earlier that evening, he realized something: this wasn't at all the Harry he was used to, and it wasn't the lost and hurting friend he had left at King's Cross last month. Something had changed, and Ron couldn't put his finger on it—until he realized _where_ the gaps in Harry's narrative were.

_It's Snape,_ he thought, looking over to where that Professor sat alone sipping tea._ Why is the man actually acting like a human being for once? For that matter, he was polite at dinner, too; hardly said a word, but didn't snipe or sneer either. And he's _never_ wanted any of us involved in the Order, especially Harry. He hates Harry, despises the rest of us, and wouldn't know how to be kind if he had written directions. This isn't normal. By the timing, either something in the letter Harry wrote, or something that happened when the Professors were at his house, or both, has to do with Snape's behavior: but what? And what does it have to do with Harry? Snape isn't normal, and Harry isn't either; it has to be connected somehow. I've got to talk to him._

Ron went over to where Harry sat alone. "A word, mate?" he asked. Harry nodded; Ron sat down on a chair opposite him.

"All right, Ron, what's up?" Harry asked. "You look…bothered."

Ron was unsure of how to begin; instead, he blurted out, "What's Snape _done_ to you?"

"Huh? Why are you asking _that_, of all things?" Harry asked in puzzlement. "I told you what happened already."

"Two things: one, it's obvious that you didn't tell us everything, and a lot of it you couldn't talk about. That's fair. But the second thing…"

Ron looked Harry straight in the eyes. "You've changed, mate. You're not who we left at the station, and you're not anything like your usual self. It's only been a month since…since the Ministry, and you're different. You're ready to fight the war all by yourself, if you have to. Well, that's you; you don't like people to get hurt. But the one thing you don't usually do, that you are doing—you're willing to let the Order, which has in it a lot of people you care about, help you. You're giving _us_ a way to help in this, and to train so that we can be there with you when the time comes. That _isn't_ like you."

Harry was silent for a moment, and then he asked, "So what links all that with Snape?"

"You wrote him a letter," Ron replied. "I can see you asking him things having to do with You-Know-Who; he's an expert on that. But then he, Dumbledore, and Lupin all come to see you in person—with the Phoenix—and answer your questions. Then tonight, he's being polite and calm, and not at all snarky with all the folks he usually detests—us, Lupin and _any_ new Potions Professor. Something's off, and I couldn't figure out what, so I guessed from what you said, and what you _didn't_ say, that Snape did or said something to you."

Harry smiled a little. "Actually, it was the other way around; I _did_ do something to _him_, but I don't understand some of why it affected him so much. I've gained a crumb or two of his respect, and I don't think he was expecting it. For the first time ever—well, I don't think it hurt that Dumbledore and Lupin were there—we discussed matters of mutual interest as one Wizard to another, not as a very intelligent Professor—which he is, never doubt that—attempting to educate a moron. Now, look at him; he's not arguing, he's not sniping, and he's supporting the idea of the Auxiliary Order—when he normally detests it when students know too much, because his life depends on people not knowing."

Ron took a deep breath. "But what _did_ you do to him? The man's been a right bastard for so long I didn't think he could be any other way."

Harry thought for a few minutes. "I'm not sure," he said slowly. "I think something I said in my letter caused him to make up his mind on something, but I don't know exactly what." _And I can't hash it out with you without breaking the man's privacy, and I won't do that. _"Showing him how Riddle's revival really happened didn't hurt, either; I think he'd never really been told what actually happened. Remember, he was at the school while all that was going on, and couldn't answer the summons right away."

"If he'd been like this at all last year, I'd have said that he's laying an elaborate trap to get you to his Master," Ron replied. "Now, I'm not so sure; he can't be telling You-Know-Who everything any more than he's telling us everything. Dumbledore trusts him, and I could never see why; I'm starting to wonder if maybe there _isn't_ a good reason for it."

Harry searched his memory. "As I remember, from something I learned in Fourth Year, Snape was cleared _by_ Dumbledore in front of the Wizengamot. He has the Mark, yes—but sometime before Riddle fell, he turned to Dumbledore and began informing. How he managed to convince Riddle after the revival ritual that he was still loyal and spying on Dumbledore I don't know, and I'm not sure I want to." He took a deep breath. "He warned me not to learn to care about him, because he expects to be caught sooner or later. He's a lot stronger than people think he is, but everyone has limits."

Ron shuddered. "Given what you've seen of what happens to people that You-Know-Who gets mad at, I see your point." He looked up. "But you haven't really answered my original question, which was what happened to _you_!"

Harry smiled back. "No, you asked me what _Snape_ did to me, and that isn't all of it. I'm too tired tonight to give it all to you, and I want the rest of them to hear it too. But the essential bit is this: I know now what I didn't know before, what I alone have to do, and that everything else is unimportant. If I want all the things I want for my friends, then I have to grow up and deal with things."

His voice hardened. "And the _best_ way I can get justice for Sirius, and Mum and Dad, is not to waste what they did, but do all I can to bring down Lestrange and her Master. I _can't_ do it alone yet—I saw Riddle and Dumbledore duel in the Atrium, and I'm nowhere near that class—but the help I need is right here: all I had to do was ask, and convince Dumbledore that I was ready for at least some of it."

He yawned and stretched. "And I'm not answering anything else tonight; I'm too tired. Dumbledore's dismissing us. Let's go to bed, and I'll see what happens in the morning."

VI: Other Cauldrons

(Monday morning, 15 July 1996)

The next morning, all the students rose, cleaned up, and headed back to the Staff Room for breakfast.

It was now the day after the Order inductions, in the second week since Harry's dramatic departure from Privet Drive. By now, the Gryffindors and Luna were actually beginning to get comfortable having meals in the Staff Room with those of the Hogwarts staff who were present over the summer. Nearly all of those were in the Order as well, or at least allied with it, so if the conversation sometimes touched on topics best not mentioned elsewhere, it was relatively safe there.

A common sight was seeing various Professors reading their professional journals over morning tea: _The Cauldron_ and _Potions Quarterly_ for the two Potions Professors; _Transfiguration Today_ for Minerva McGonagall and Albus Dumbledore (he also read the Potions journals); _Quidditch Monthly_ for Madam Rolanda Hooch (which Ron, Ginny and Harry borrowed after she was done); and _Magical Academics_ for the Headmaster and McGonagall. Hermione also subscribed to several of those, one being _Current_ _Issues in Magical Ethics_. An article in this journal started an interesting conversation that morning.

"Now, this one I actually agree with," Hermione commented.

"Which one, Miss Granger?" inquired McGonagall.

"It's an article about conservation of magical species," Hermione replied. "The author warns that excessive hunting and gathering may cause serious depletions in many rare species, such as dragons, moonflowers, and dark unicorns. I thought _those_ were already extinct."

"They are, here in Britain, Hermione," rumbled Hagrid. "Over on the Continent there're still some wild herds left, deep in the forests. But it's like fer the regular white ones: yeh're no' supposed ta hunt 'em at all. Who wrote tha'?"

Hermione scanned the byline. "The author is listed as 'Ivan Ivanovitch'. Isn't that the Russian version of our 'John Doe', a universal pseudonym?" She started, as Severus Snape dropped his copy of _The Cauldron_.

"Did you say _'Ivan Ivanovitch'_ actually wrote an _ethics_ article? May I see it, please?" He picked up his own journal, laid it on the table, and held out his hand.

Hermione passed it over, a bit bemused by the man's reaction. "Why? Do you know him?"

Snape scanned the article. "Yes, it is he all right." He finished the article, and handed it back to Hermione; he then leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers in a gesture that usually indicated he was about to discuss something difficult. "A number of years ago when I was still a student here, I was told, in the course of a lecture on my behavior by my Head of House, to try to find one good quality in everyone I hated or despised. You have just read this man's one good quality: he is indeed serious about magical beast and plant conservation. That is so he will never run out of ingredients."

Most of the rest of the table was now listening with interest. "Uh, Sir?" Ron Weasley put in. "If that's his only _good_ quality, what's the _rest_ of the story? Is this…uh, a pen name for…uh, Riddle?" Hearing Snape discuss something like this made him sound far more human than Ron had ever expected to see.

Snape allowed himself a small smile; it was not a happy one. "Not bad, Mr. Weasley, not bad; you are thinking. Riddle _could_ have written as well-done an article, but he is not so passionate about such things. This is written by one of the foremost _Potions_ Masters in the entire world; I have read many of his articles in the Potions journals, and we have corresponded occasionally. But you are correct on one account, as is Miss Granger; this is indeed a 'John Doe' pen name, a literal translation of 'John Johnson'; he is a Russian, with a German mother. Under his real name, his articles, no matter how good—and he really _is_ a genius—would never be accepted by any reputable journal. As it is, I suspect some of the editors know who he really is, but do not ask. And I would not know his real name, were it not for the…other circles I move in."

"Who is he, Sir? Is he another Dark Lord?" Now Hermione was curious.

Snape shook his head. "Oh, no, Miss Granger," he replied. "While he is at least as Dark as Riddle is, he has no interest in power and rule over others—at least not political power. All he truly cares about is his Potions laboratory: experimenting and inventing. He has money enough to keep the authorities off his back, and to pay for everything he really wants—such as human subjects; that is the only kind of power he cares about."

He turned to Dumarest. "Antonia, do you remember the day Albus introduced us, when I told him that he could put you into my classroom post and get a net gain in competence, as you are a Mistress of at least two ranks above me?"

Dumarest smiled, while the students' eyes widened. Snape had a justifiably high opinion of himself and rarely acknowledged anyone else as his equal, let alone his superior; none of them had ever heard him so complimentary. "I do indeed, Severus," she replied. "I thought you quite the flatterer."

"Merely the truth, Antonia," he snorted. "Ask any of the students here if I am given to flattering _anyone, _least of all another Potions expert. Well, Ivanovitch is to Riddle what you are to Albus: Riddle could replace me with him at a serious net gain in competence. He is a Master of at least equal ranking to you, as you probably already know, if you follow the journals; he is also only a little over half your age. The _only_ thing that prevents this—and he has been courted—is that he refuses to acknowledge _any_ overlord, or pledge to anyone except himself. He is a mercenary; Riddle buys specialty Potions from him that I am not in a position to make here at a school."

He turned back to Ron, whose eyes widened a little at being directly addressed, and that without an insult or a sneer. "To give you some idea of _what_ he is, Mr. Weasley: take _everything_ you students have _ever_ said, heard or believed about me, including those stories from my own school days with Black and James Potter. Add in everything that you know or imagine about my…'night job'. Multiply it by ten. Everything you _ever_ suspected or believed _me_ capable of, this man _is_; he has no scruples whatever about sources of ingredients or intentions of the potions he makes—did I also mention he is the world's foremost authority on poisons, both Magical and Muggle?"

Remus Lupin shivered. "Not someone I would _ever_ want to meet, Severus," he commented. The rest of those at the table either winced or nodded.

"_You_ certainly do not," Snape agreed. He picked up the teapot and poured himself a fresh cup. "As a werewolf you would be an interesting experimental subject—while you lived. The _only_ thing that keeps him from prosecution is that he has too much gold flowing to the authorities where he lives; he avoids assassination by a paranoia that Mad-Eye Moody would fully understand. However, as I said, he is not interested in ruling anyone. He does not discriminate between Pureblood, halfblood or Muggleborn, either; all are viable ingredients. But he will never bow down to anyone either; he learned his lesson from his father."

"Now you're piquing _my_ curiosity, Severus," McGonagall said. "Who _was_ his father?"

Snape held up one hand to her in a wait-a-moment gesture, and then turned back to Professor Dumarest. "Antonia, do you recall my grandfather Justinian Snape?"

Dumarest made a face. "Oh, yes; he was his father's son, no question. Brilliant, stubborn, and a Pureblood bigot that made the Blacks look mild. Also a superb Potions Master; too bad he took up with…whom he took up with. We despised each other except in the pages of _The Cauldron_; he actually had some good ideas, and his technique was sound; but he thought me 'too soft' for being more interested in the uses for medical potions than creating new and bizarre ones for mass destructive uses. This was on top of his despising me for being 'soft on Mudbloods'. I have no doubt that he was hand-in-glove with Grindelwald's chief Potions Master; Robert and I refused to sell or give anything to him after I found out that bit. Had we not decamped when we did, I have no doubt that he would have tried to help Grindelwald take us, family or not."

"He was, indeed, and he would have," Snape agreed grimly. "It is as well that Grandfather is permanently immured in a secure ward in Switzerland, and is unable to frame a coherent thought; otherwise there would have to be…actions taken."

Dumbledore, who had been silent through all of this, now spoke, in a quiet and grave tone underlaid with a touch of iron. "Severus, surely you do not mean that you think Nikolai Alexeyvich Drakon still lives? I know for a _fact_ that he is dead, because I _personally_ saw him die." The expression in his eyes said that there was much more to the story, but that he was not going to tell it. The students were now hanging on every word the adults said.

"He is, indeed: but his son lives, and is if anything worse than the father," Snape replied, equally quietly. "Albus, I know you do not like to be reminded of that time; but this is one leftover with which I hope we never to have to deal."

His voice hardened, into the cold and harsh tone the students were more used to hearing from him. "For understand this: should Dmitri Nikolayevich Drakon, otherwise known as Ivan Ivanovich, _ever_ set foot _anywhere_ near Hogwarts, and I find out, I _will_ summarily execute him in whatever way I can, either Magical or Muggle, and take my chances with the Ministry and the Dark Lord afterwards. He and his father helped to finish corrupting Grandfather and my two uncles and secured their allegiance to Grindelwald; Grandfather is permanently spell-damaged and my uncles were both killed. After you vanquished that Dark Lord, Father began supporting an up-and-comer named Tom Riddle, although he declined to take an active part. Drakon the younger vanished before he could be caught, and retreated to an estate owned by his father's family. This was all _long_ before I was born, but Father told me all about it when I was growing up."

His tome moderated a little. "I will say that I do not think it _likely_ that he would come here: the _only_ thing that would bring him here from his lair somewhere in the Carpathian Mountains would be a chance to capture as many interesting people as he could for his experiments; Hogwarts is known for the variety of its…inhabitants. Lupin and Hagrid would be especially interesting to him, as halfblood Wizards with Magical Creature components. He would also be quite interested in collecting the bounties on yourself and Mr. Potter; I believe you are each up to fifty thousand Galleons dead, and one hundred thousand alive."

He turned to Harry, whose eyes had widened a little at the man's vehemence. "I remember his essay in _The Cauldron_—some years ago after you and Lily caused Riddle's fall, when everyone was still wondering just what happened—on what kind of Potion could negate the Killing Curse; he could not imagine any other means of doing so, least of all the truth. I think he would gladly forego the bounty if he could have you instead, to find out what made you immune. But he is too security-conscious to leave his lair, let alone try to do it himself; he knows his limitations as a duelist. Instead, he would possibly cut a deal with the Dark Lord to sell some of you to him if He ever conquers this school."

Silence fell over the table, as each person there digested this rather blunt speech. Snape was not normally so outspoken about anyone, still less so around the students, and _never_ spoke about personal or family matters; that he did so this time showed the seriousness of the matter.

Harry broke the silence. "Sir, do you remember a certain question I asked you in my letter, and is this something that this Ivanovich would know of?"

Snape was silent for a moment, considering, while the other students gave Harry puzzled looks. "He might know of similar potions, Mr. Potter, and is certainly well-versed in the _type_ of potion used; but what happened that night also required serious Transfiguration magic," he said thoughtfully but firmly. "I stand by my original opinion, based partly on what was said that night: that Riddle himself wrote or adapted that ritual and potion to his own particular needs. He is a Potions expert, even though not as much of one as he would be if he focused only on that, as Ivanovich has; he is also quite skilled in the other branches of magic, as Ivanovich is not."

Ginny spoke next, quietly. "Professor Dumarest, if I may ask, how is it that you know Professor Snape's grandfather? Are you related?" Privately, she suspected as much; seeing the two together, she had noted the similar black eyes and thin faces.

Dumarest smiled a little. "I was wondering which of you would be observant enough to notice the details first," she replied. "Yes, we are related; his grandfather Justinian was the eldest son, and as far as I know the only one surviving—if you can call it that, considering where he is—of my late younger brother Aurelius Snape. My brother and I never got along; he was a year behind me, in Slytherin, and could never forgive me for being the Eldest instead of him. He also despised me for not upholding the Snape name and honor by being a proper bigot myself, or marrying one, preferably a Black or a Malfoy—those families were every bit as rich and powerful then as now, if not more so—I simply couldn't. I left England, I thought for good, well before the turn of the century, and went to France to study for my Mastery; there I met and married Robert Dumarest. Even though Rob was a French Pureblood and every bit as rich as the Blacks, Aurelius despised my husband for being fair and impartial to all Wizards and Witches regardless of birth or circumstance, and having no bias toward the other Magical races; much as Albus was then, and still is."

"So you knew the Headmaster then, too?" Ginny continued; she was surprised enough to get the first answer that she felt daring enough to ask the next question. _She's older than I thought she was._ The entire table fell silent; this was more than most of them had ever known about the family of the normally very private and reticent Snape.

"Oh yes," Dumarest answered, with a slightly wider smile. "Albus was two years ahead of me in Gryffindor, while I was in Ravenclaw, but that didn't stop us being good friends; I remember him helping me with something I was revising for my OWLs, even though it was his NEWT year. You hear him call me 'Tish' rather than Antonia; that was my nickname among my friends then, after my middle name. Aurelius despised him, too; never mind that the Dumbledores are as Pureblooded as we Snapes are. It was Albus' inclusive attitude my brother couldn't stand, nor our father or his siblings, for that matter; they were Pureblood bigots that make Lucius Malfoy look like an amateur. Even then, the Wizarding community was arguing over the Pureblood/Muggleborn issue; Albus, Robert and I, all Purebloods, were firmly in one camp, and my father, his siblings, and my brother were in the other camp with the Blacks and the Malfoys."

She turned to Harry, still with a smile. "And I think it would _really_ have infuriated all those stuck-up bigots to see the last of the Black line not only turn out to be a Light Wizard, but make _you_ his heir for the name and the title; they didn't think much of the Potters even then, and the feeling was mutual. You having a Muggleborn mother would have made you even more anathema. But one thing I will say of them: had they lived until now, their bigotry would have set them against Tom Riddle for being a halfblood, and a commoner at that; I understand that his Witch mother was a village girl, and it was the Muggle Riddles who were something of the local moneyed family. Grindelwald _was_ a Pureblood, from one of the great German Wizard lines.

"Now, since I had gone to France to study for my Mastery, and there met and married Robert, Aurelius got the house, the lands, and the family inheritance; not that I wanted any of it, anyway, as Rob had more than enough. By the time it got down through Justinian—who went down, albeit non-fatally, with Grindelwald and Drakon the elder—to Severus' father Marcus, who was the youngest son, the family was not so numerous or so high in society that they could do anything major by themselves, so they did what the Malfoys did: allied themselves with the most powerful Dark Wizard around, despite his lack of proper blood status, in return for letting _him_ deal with Albus when it came to the crunch. Things didn't work out that way, and considering who and what Mr. Potter is I think all of you here know the rest of _that_ story."

VII: In the Air (Later Monday morning, 16 July 1996)

When breakfast was over, Hermione and Luna headed for the library, and most of the rest trooped down to the Quidditch pitch for some exercise before Professor Flitwick began his seminar. Harry joined them a few minutes later.

Aerial combat from broomsticks was not a new concept; but Filius Flitwick had thought that there were ways of integrating that with the castle's own defenses. The many towers gave perfect staging, observation and landing points. The Quidditch pitch was a possible target, should anything happen during a game, and the only way to decently defend it was from the air.

All of the students were Quidditch veterans, except for Neville. He had rarely flown since his disastrous first year, and needed to get at least competent on a broom. He would not be in the aerial team, but it had been pointed out that a broom was the fastest method for him to get from plant to plant when arming the defensive plants he and Professor Sprout were planning. So, the first part of the day he spent with Madam Hooch, getting brought up to speed on one of the better school brooms; by lunchtime, he was even able to fly with one hand and hold his wand in the other.

As they went in to lunch, Harry asked Neville, "Do you even own a broom? If you're to use it in combat, a school broom just isn't enough, and you need full-time access to it. You might not be able to get to the broom shed in time."

"No," Neville replied. "Gran thought that it would be unsafe for me to have one, and since I don't play Quidditch I really didn't need one here."

"I think you should get one—something reliable like a Cleansweep Eleven or such," Harry said. "I've had an idea about Quidditch. You know that we'll have to figure out a way for game security. What about if some of the DA were in the stands, with shrunk and pocketed broomsticks, all ready to back up the players in case of an attack? And if you were one of them, they'd never expect it."

"And it would get the fighters out of the stands and up high to see what the problem was," Neville nodded. "I like that, except then the flyers are easy to pick out."

"Ah—but remember what Professor Flitwick said," Harry reminded, as the two went up the stairs to the Staff Room. "'A moving target is harder to hit than a stationary one.'"

After lunch, however, Harry waved the other students on. "Go on without me this time," he said. "There is still some stuff I have to do at the house with the Headmaster, and it's likely we won't be back for a few hours." He turned the other way, and headed up to the Headmaster's office.

The afternoon was spent doing an aerial survey of the entire castle: height of the Towers, where the castle perimeter wards began and ended, the relationships between the Front Doors and certain landmarks on the grounds: the Whomping Willow, the Quidditch pitch, Hagrid's cabin, and the lake. Professor Flitwick showed the teens several useful Charms: triangulation charms to detect the height of distant objects, measuring charms for height and length, and ward detectors to check for breaches in the castle's safety wards (the ones which prevented serious injuries in case of falls from the Towers). This was the sort of flying even Neville could manage.

Ron told them of the tunnel from the Willow to Hogsmeade's Shrieking Shack. "Only problem is that you have to get close enough to trigger the knot that freezes the Willow," he admitted. "You can use a long stick, but it's still not that safe."

"And then you go in and down the tunnel and it comes out in the Shack, right?" asked Flitwick. "Wasn't that where Professor Lupin went when he was a student?"

"Uh-huh," agreed Ron. "That's why the Willow was planted—to hide the tunnel to Professor Lupin's safe room for his transformations. This was before the Wolfsbane Potion. Problem is that Professor Lupin's three best friends knew about it too: and one of them was Peter Pettigrew, who would open that knot in his rat form so Lupin and the others could get in safely. He's now a Death Eater, so it's probable that Riddle knows about it too."

Flitwick took out the aerial chart. "So, if it goes to the Shack…it must go roughly this way…" He traced out a line from the point marked "Willow" south to the edge of the grounds line.

"That's one," he said, as he added a note, "To Shrieking Shack". "I suspect we ought to lay some traps at the Shack itself. Now, Fred, didn't you two say that there are seven passages on the Map leading from the castle itself?"

"Well, yes," Fred replied. "Those are all the ones the Marauders knew about, anyway. One _is_ the one from the Willow. Mr. Filch knows about four of them; the one behind the fourth-floor mirror is blocked. How far the blockage goes, we don't know. The one from the third floor behind the humpbacked witch goes to the cellar at Honeyduke's. Oh—and the Map also shows the passwords to the hidden doors."

"But the Marauders didn't know about the Chamber of Secrets," Flitwick replied. "Also, I think there are one or more in the dungeons, known to Professor Snape but not to the Marauders. I am fairly certain that he uses one as a discreet exit for his 'night job'."

"Well, considering Riddle was a Slytherin too, he probably knows at least some of them," Ginny pointed out.

Flitwick nodded. "This is _why_ we are doing this: so that we may deny him the use of any knowledge he does have," he said gently. "Professor Snape has agreed to tell us of any he knows, and the Headmaster will be canvassing the portraits and the ghosts for anything they remember."

George sighed. "Damn Riddle for starting this mess, so that we have to give up such a precious secret to the teachers," he said mournfully. "No one will be able to sneak out and buy Butterbeer for parties any more."

Neville was more practical. "But George, no one will be able to sneak _in_ and abduct or kill anyone, either," he pointed out. "I mean, Sirius Black managed to get in somehow."

"Ah—but you forget, or maybe didn't know, one important item." Ron put in. He pulled out the Marauders' Map, which Harry had left for him to use in his absence. He tapped it with his wand, and incanted the password; the title page revealed itself. "Sirius _was_ one of the Marauders: he's the 'Mr. Padfoot' on the Map; he was an Animagus, with a form of a large black dog." He pointed out the authors' names. "He would have that knowledge. Unfortunately, so was 'Mr. Wormtail', Peter Pettigrew; and he lived in either Percy's or my dorm for seven years—four with Percy and three with me, plus the seven years he was here as a student with Harry's Dad and Mum and Sirius and Professor Lupin. He's more dangerous as a spy; his Animagus form is small enough to go a lot of places even a cat can't go. If you remember my rat Scabbers—that was Wormtail."

"But the ghosts can," Flitwick pointed out. "Now, who were 'Mr. Moony' and 'Mr. Prongs'?"

"Remus Lupin and James Potter, who was a stag Animagus," Ron replied. "And any more you want to know about it you should be asking either Harry or Professor Lupin; it's not mine to tell."

"So—these four boys created this wonder, _and_ three of them became Animagi, all the while they were still students here—_and_ managed to hide it from the teachers, and Professor Dumbledore?" Flitwick said, with wonderment in his voice. "And one of them was Head Boy, and married one of the most brilliant Charms students I have ever had—that was Lily Evans."

"Yes—and one of them became a Death Eater and betrayed his friends," Ginny reminded them.

Flitwick shook his head sadly. "I agree with the Headmaster: the waste of the young lives of the students, both then and now, is one of the greatest evils that You-Know-Who is committing," he said. "I didn't know either James or Sirius as well as I did Lily, but I don't think they would begrudge the use of the Map for this, if by it we can prevent the loss of as many of the current generation as we lost of theirs in the last War."

"Especially considering that one of that generation is the only son _of_ the Marauders," Ron agreed.

"And call him 'Tom Riddle', Professor," Ginny said firmly. "That's his real name and it doesn't scare anyone. He _wants_ everyone to fear his name. The Headmaster says 'Fear of the name only increases fear of the thing itself'. _I_ knew him as Tom; and Harry is now refusing to use any of the pseudonyms, including his own, as he isn't really a 'Lord' of anything."

Flitwick's eyes widened. He knew, of course, of Ginny's horrific experience in her first year, but didn't know many details. "I will do my best, Miss Weasley," he replied gently, "but it is difficult to overcome decades of habit."

"You can," she encouraged. "Besides, you're a Head of House; that way, you can encourage your House to follow along. We had a number of Ravenclaws in the DA, not just Luna. If you give them that example, they'll support you."

The Professor was silent for a minute. "As I said, I will try," he said at length. "But it is hardest for those of us who remember the horrors of the First War so plainly." The sparkle was no longer in his eyes, and sadness seemed to overcome his usual cheer.

"There's also this," Neville said thoughtfully. "Didn't you say that this Map sees through Polyjuice, Animagi, and Invisibility Cloaks?" At the nods from all the Weasleys, he continued. "So, say, if Pettigrew came here in his rat form, he'd be listed as 'Peter Pettigrew', not 'Wormtail', right?"

Ron nodded. "That's how Lupin spotted him, our third year. Sirius had seen his picture as a rat and recognized his form, but Lupin saw his name on the Map—and he was supposed to be dead."

"Right," Neville agreed. "So—if He comes here—how will He show on the Map? As Tom Riddle or Lord

Voldemort?"

That brought a few moments of silence, broken by Ginny. "I don't think it matters," she said. "If we see either name there, we know it's Tom, and act accordingly." The others nodded agreement.

Fred put the conversation back on track. "So—which one of the passages do we check out next?" he asked.

"I think I want to know first which ones Mr. Filch knows of," Flitwick said after a long moment of thought. "He is a Squib, as you well know; he cannot resist a magical interrogation, should he be taken by either the Death Eaters or the Ministry. There is also this: after this last year, the Headmaster does not fully trust him. He alone of the staff gave Dolores Umbridge his full support, in exchange for her indulging him on punishments. You left in good time, Fred and George; he had an 'Authorization for Whipping' for you two. For these reasons, he will not be admitted into the Order; he will also have an assistant this year, also a Squib, Arabella Figg. She _is_ in the Order and has been since the first War. She and her cats will work much as he does, but will be privy to more information."

"And she'll be watching him, too?" George asked quietly. "Harry doesn't trust him, either, and neither do we."

"As will others," Flitwick replied. "On the other hand, he knows this castle better than almost anyone; the Headmaster will be tapping his knowledge." He nodded at the Map. "Shall we?"

Fred and George pointed out one of the known passages, and Flitwick made a note on his aerial map. Consolidating information took them up until almost dinnertime.

"We'd better break now," Ron pointed out. "Harry never did come back, and we need to be able to get Hermione and Luna out of the Library." The others grinned, and almost as one, they retired to the Staff Room for dinner.


	2. It's My House Now

Disclaimers: Harry Potter and his world belong to J.K. Rowling and to her assorted publishers, not to me. Antonia Dumarest _is_ mine, as are the assorted Snape and Dumarest relatives, and may be used with permission; e-mail me.

Spoilers: All five HP novels.

**PRELUDE TO WAR: SUMMER**

Part Two: **IT'S _MY_ HOUSE NOW…**

Monday morning and afternoon, 15 July 1996

I: Takings, Leavings and Disposals

After breakfast, however, Harry did not immediately join the others for the aerial combat seminar, but approached Professor Dumbledore.

"Sir? I think we need to set a time for me to do what I have to do about the house, and if we can get everyone else here, this afternoon should work," Harry said.

The Headmaster's eyes were shadowed with concern. "Are you certain that you are ready to go over to Headquarters, Harry?" he asked. "This may not be easy."

"Yes, Sir," Harry replied quietly. "The sooner we do this, the more secure the Order will be, and the sooner Mad-Eye can move in."

Remus Lupin was also concerned. His ward and Godson was still in a fragile state of mind, no matter how much he tried to hide it. "Would you rather wait until after the service?" he asked gently.

"No, Moony," Harry was quiet, but firm; still hesitant to use Lupin's first name, he was more comfortable with the old Marauder nickname. "This way, we can have the service there rather than here. It'll be safer, and at the same time we can keep out those who shouldn't be there, and key in everyone who needs to have access."

Lupin nodded. "Then let's decide who is going, and when."

"That will be Gaby and Leno for the house-elves here, Dobby and Winky to be the new Black house-elves, Alastor and Tonks to represent the rest of the family, you two and me," Dumbledore replied.

Harry had another thought. "Sir? Could we have either Professor Snape or Professor Dumarest along as well?"

"Why?" asked Dumbledore.

"Well, they're both Snapes, and that's an old Dark family; maybe one or the other can pick up on something cultural we might miss. From what Professor Dumarest was talking about, their family would have been knowledgeable about some of the stuff we found last summer."

"That may be a good idea," Dumbledore said thoughtfully. "I think it had best be Severus; his background in such is much more recent, and may also be of use." He Floo-called the Potions Master, who arrived shortly. When he was told what was wanted, his eyebrows rose a little.

"I had no idea that you would want me with you for something of this nature, Mr. Potter," he said quietly. "Does it not bother you to have me in Black's home, for a rite in which you take formal and magical possession of that which he gave you?"

Harry did his best to match the other's tone. "It's simple, really. Besides the fact that you're in and out of the place anyway, as part of the Order, you're the nearest thing we have to a Dark Wizard. This is a house that still has a lot of Dark Magic in it, or did last time I was in it, and you're more likely to spot it than most of the rest of us. I mean, Mad-Eye will see what we can't see, and Professor Dumbledore can probably beat anything we find, but you'd be more likely to see…uh, cultural hints of things we need to deal with, or leave be, that maybe we missed in the first round of cleaning. Remember, I was raised Muggle; I have only the vaguest idea of what's going to be mine on the Magical side."

He took a deep breath; his hands tightened unconsciously on the armrests of the padded chair he was in. "And I'm thinking that you just _might_ be the only one who can actually _talk_ to Madam Black without her screaming. Sirius—" he gulped a little, "—told us that his brother was a Death Eater who got himself killed by Riddle, or on his orders. You being what you are, Madam Black may cooperate; she still goes on about her 'faithful son', who wasn't Sirius. And the other bit—" he swallowed hard again, "—it may have belonged to his family, and he may have lived there and been the Master of the house, but it wasn't his _home_. If we're to do…what we have to do, we have to live up to all that we promised each other, and part of that was to put aside feuds. And I think that no matter _how_ much he detested you and you him, Sirius would want this, if it gives me something I need, and twice over to help gain the Order's objective."

Snape's eyebrows raised another fraction. "That is sound reasoning, Mr. Potter, and better than I expected from you," he approved. "Under those circumstances, I will join you."

"Harry, go ahead and join the flyers this morning; then let us meet here again after lunch," Dumbledore decided. "I will have some idea of what you and I are to say by then, so that we can practice it before we go." Harry nodded, and left to return to Gryffindor Tower for his Firebolt.

Monday afternoon, concurrent with "In the Air"

After lunch, five Wizards, one Witch (Tonks), and four house-elves stood in the Entrance Hall of the mansion. Dumbledore was the first to speak.

"I, Albus Dumbledore, acknowledge the demise of the Lord of the Ancient and Most Noble House of Black; I myself witnessed it. By the terms of his will, duly read and entered, I am the Executor, and I now proclaim his Heir. In the absence of an heir of his body, the estate falls to his Godson and declared Heir of the Black line, Harry James Potter, son of James Potter and Lily Evans Potter. I declare him to be the new Master of the House of Black, and let none bar him from what is now rightfully his: to do or let be, to take or leave, to keep or dispose of. By my word and wand, I swear all this to be true." He turned to Harry, and gave him a go-ahead gesture.

Harry stepped forward. His voice, a bit shaky at first, steadied down as he spoke. "I, Harry James Potter, son of James Potter and Lily Evans Potter, claim the titles, properties and estates of the Ancient and Most Noble House of Black. I am Lord Black, and let none bar me from what is now rightfully mine." A tingle went over him; he sensed that the house's wards were responding to him.

The moldering curtain opened in front of Madam Black's portrait. She woke up, and stared in horror. "You! You halfblood vermin! How _dare_ you claim the title and estates of a line of true purity!" she screamed. "My blood-traitor son is dead, but there are other members of the family who are still pure!"

"By the terms of the will of Sirius Black, the last Head of Family, Narcissa and Bellatrix are now disinherited," Dumbledore replied calmly. "Andromeda has been restored to the family line, if you still wish a pureblooded Black."

"She is a blood traitor as well—taking up with a Mudblood and producing a freak!" the portrait snapped back. "Where is my faithful servant? _Kreacher!_"

The ancient house-elf appeared, and groveled before the portrait. "What does Mistress want?" he whined. "I cannot remove the blood traitor and the freak Auror—they are too strong for me!"

Before the portrait could scream back, Harry spoke up; he was nauseated at the very idea, but this task had to be done. "Kreacher, by the will of the last Head of the Black Family, _I_ am now the Master of the House of Black," he said firmly. "As you are bound to _this_ house, you are now _my_ house-elf, bound to obey _my_ commands. The first order I give you is to take Madam Black's portrait down."

"No! Kreacher lives to serve the true Mistress of the House—the great enemy of the Dark Lord cannot _possibly _be the Master of the House!" The cringing and cowering house-elf was horrified at the very thought.

"By the will of your last Master, I _am_," Harry replied coldly. "There is also this: that you willfully betrayed your Master to his death, even if it was at the hands of another Black. What is the penalty for a house-elf who betrays the Master of the House to his death?"

"He was an abomination—a blood traitor—not fit to live!" screeched Kreacher. "Kreacher went to Master Malfoy and Mistress Narcissa—true purebloods all—and faithful to their Lord! They arranged his trap, not Kreacher!"

"So—that makes _both_ sons of the House of Black victims of the Dark Lord," Snape cut in smoothly, in his silk-with-an-edge tone.

Madam Black was incensed. "My faithful son—my good son Regulus—"

"Was killed on the orders of the Dark Lord, because he could no longer stand to serve Him," Snape interrupted. "I was present when he was first sentenced, and the Dark Lord declared him unfit to be a Death Eater. Then he was tortured and executed by junior-grade Death Eaters to give them practice in using curses, _especially_ the Unforgivables, as well as to be an object lesson on trying to escape His service. He did not last very long, at that; he died before anyone needed to use the Killing Curse."

The edge in his voice now dripped ice. "So, Madam Black: which was worse? The blood-traitor elder son who fought the Dark Lord all his life and was killed in battle by Bellatrix, or the coward younger son who tried to escape his Mark and his Lord's sworn service and was killed by his fellow Death Eaters, neither of whom did his duty to marry and produce heirs of the blood? Which one better served the House of Black? More to the point: how does serving a halfblood—which is what the Dark Lord is—advance the Pureblood cause?"

Both the portrait and the house-elf stared at Snape. He continued, in a slightly more moderate tone. "The rightful Master of the House and Head of Family has declared his wishes, duly entered in his will. He provided an heir, even if it was not an heir of the blood. Like it or not, Mr. Potter is now the Master of the House."

"Kreacher does not serve half-breeds and blood traitors!" screamed the house-elf, in a surprisingly loud voice for one so old and small.

Before Snape, Harry, or the portrait could answer, the two Hogwarts house-elves stepped forward. Both appeared to be at least as old as Kreacher, but were much tidier, and wearing neat and clean tea towels with the Hogwarts crest. "We is Gaby and Leno, senior house-elves in service to the Master of Hogwarts School," the female elf began, in a high but firm voice. "Kreacher is a bad house-elf; he is not obeying his rightful Master. Kreacher will obey his Master, or he will suffer the punishment decreed for bad house-elves in service to this House."

"Worse than that: he _betrayed_ his last Master to his death, at the hands of a servant of the Dark Lord," Harry put in. "This is in part _why_ Sirius Black is gone, and I have inherited. Again I ask: what is the proper penalty for betraying his rightful Master to his…his death?" He had managed to control most of the shaking in his voice, but not all of it.

Gaby and Leno leaned together and whispered; then Leno spoke for the first time. "The House of Black always let its house-elves behead themselves when they did wrong. This is what Kreacher should do. That Mistress Bellatrix was the one who killed him does not count: Master Sirius was the Master. He was betrayed to his death, and Kreacher helped."

"Kreacher will serve Mistress Bellatrix and Mistress Narcissa! Mistress Lavinia is my true Mistress; she was faithful! Kreacher will _not_ serve this boy!"

Kreacher's tirade was cut off as Gaby waved her hand; he was frozen on the spot. "Kreacher will serve and obey Master Harry Potter as he is bound, or Kreacher will be punished," she said firmly. "Master Harry Potter is the Master of Kreacher's House now, not Mistress Narcissa or Mistress Bellatrix. Mistress Lavinia is dead these ten years; Kreacher must not obey her portrait over a living Master. Kreacher has been ordered by his Master to remove Mistress Lavinia's portrait; he will obey, or be punished." She released him.

There was a silence, as Kreacher obviously struggled with the conflict engendered by his bondage. On the one hand, the Magical Contract of the Will now forced him to accept and obey Harry as his new Master; on the other hand, decades of habit and training made Harry completely unacceptable as a Master of the House to which he was bound.

Finally, something broke within him. He threw himself face down on the floor in front of Harry.

"Young Master must show mercy to poor old Kreacher," he whimpered. "Kreacher has lived only to be faithful to the House of Black, all good purebloods and allies of the Dark Lord. Young Master is an enemy of the Dark Lord and a blood traitor, and a halfblood besides. Kreacher has only done what he is bound to do, what he has done all his life. Young Master cannot understand that. Let Kreacher go to Mistress Narcissa or Mistress Bellatrix, good pureblood Blacks both."

"Oh yes, I can," Harry replied, not quite as coldly. "You're bound for life, and now you're bound to a Master you despise. No, I will not let you go to either of them; they are a danger to me, and the next time I meet Mistress Bellatrix I hope will be the last one. For the same reasons, I cannot set you free. I _do_ have the means of treating you with mercy, however; your last Master has _graciously_ and _kindly_ given you a choice of actions in his Will, and you will select one of them within this hour."

Harry glared at the cringing figure, who did not answer. "One is to obey me and serve me as the proper Master of the House, which is far more than you did for the last one; as I said, you can start with removing Mistress Lavinia's portrait. Two, you can be permanently exiled to one room of the summer cottage in Wales, with a food supply and the entire collection of the Black portraits, which you will personally remove and pack, so that you may continue to serve those you feel loyal to, without being a danger to your new Master, and to those of his friends he chooses to have in his house. Three—" he took a deep breath before continuing, "—you may choose a proper weapon, and behead yourself as your parents did. I realize that your life is a misery; you have the right to end it if you choose. But you must make your choice _here and now_, and carry it out. I do not have the time or patience to let things drag out any further."

"Master was _not_ kind! Master was very cruel to make Kreacher have to choose!" The ancient house-elf cringed even further; if he could have, he would have sunk into the moldering carpet.

"I am now your Master, Kreacher. Do you wish me to choose for you?" Harry's voice was still steady.

Still not looking up, Kreacher began muttering to himself. "Young Master does not know _how_ to be a proper Master. A house-elf is not given choices; he is given orders. A house-elf does not get wishes; he obeys. Young Master is not a proper Master, and yet he is Kreacher's Master. Kreacher wants a real Master to obey, a proper, worthy, pureblood Master or Mistress of the House of Black; this one is now Kreacher's Master, and he is not any of those things. Kreacher must obey, but Kreacher cannot obey."

Out of sight of the groveling house-elf, Harry looked around to the others. Lupin and Tonks both shook their heads sadly; Dumbledore looked on calmly, but appeared willing to support Harry in whichever choice he made. Snape and Moody both glared at the wretched elf; it was clear what they would prefer to see done. All four of the other house-elves, including Dobby and Winky who had not yet spoken, stared at Kreacher with disgust.

Harry thought over the matter. As much as he had vowed to have no more needless deaths, he realized that _this_ one might be needful. Kreacher had already been serving more than one Black, and Harry would be too new a Master to overcome decades of conditioning; nor was the elf likely to obey Lupin or Moody. If the house was to continue to serve as Order Headquarters, Kreacher had to go, and not to freedom or to the other Blacks. The lives of the other members of the Order were at stake, and Harry refused to risk them any more than they already were; this went triply for the Auxiliary Order and his other friends.

_I pledged this house to the Order's use_, thought Harry. _Keeping Kreacher will endanger them all. I have no way to ensure his behavior if I let him go to the summer cottage. I will let him have his mercy, and figure out something to tell Hermione later. And this won't even make me feel better for Sirius even though it's justice. If this is what it means to be a Lord, and a leader, to have to deliberately choose to take one life to save others, I don't want it._

Making his decision, he spoke. "Very well, Kreacher; if being a proper Master means to give orders for you to obey, then that is what I shall do." His voice rose to a snap. "Stand up and look at me."

The house-elf got to his feet with difficulty, and looked firmly at Harry's knees, not wishing to raise his eyes further. Harry took a deep breath, and forced himself to speak firmly, formally and decisively.

"Kreacher, you have given decades of faithful service to the Ancient and Most Noble House of Black. It has become obvious that further service and work will be far too much for you, at your age, and judging by the disgraceful conditions of both yourself and this house, that has already been the case for a long time. Further, you betrayed your last Master. Being forced to continue to live with me as your Master would be far too cruel to you, and far too dangerous for me. Therefore, I, Lord Black, now offer you mercy as well as justice. Take an appropriate weapon and behead yourself, here and now, in front of these witnesses and me." Harry ignored the slight gasp from Tonks. _I'm not going to do it; let him do it to himself, if that's what is required, and if that's what he wants._

Kreacher froze. He then stared up at Harry. "Young Master is letting Kreacher behead himself properly?" he asked, in an amazed voice.

"Young Master is," confirmed Dumbledore. His expression was grave, but calm; there was no trace of rebuke for Harry's choice. "I am charged, as the Executor of the Will of your last Master, to enforce whatever decision your new Master makes as to your fate." He conjured up a sharp, gleaming short sword with an elf-sized hilt, and handed it to Kreacher, who took it dazedly. "Carry out his order."

"Carry out Master's order, Kreacher," Gaby echoed. "Be a proper house-elf instead of a disgrace."

Kreacher looked from one to another, then stood a little taller and gave the sword a flourish. His head came off and fell to the floor, shortly joined by the body. Blood came from both, and soaked into the rug. The sword fell to the floor as well, and disappeared.

No one spoke for a few moments; then Harry let out the breath he hadn't realized he was holding. "Someone clean this up, please," he forced himself to say. "And don't stuff and mount him, either; I want his body and _all_ the other heads disposed of in a proper manner, according to whatever is right for house-elves."

However, the portrait was not yet finished. "You destroyed my faithful servant!" screeched Madam Black.

"No, Madam Black," Harry snapped back. He had had enough of her temper. "I let _my_ _un_faithful servant have the final mercy _he_ wanted; he destroyed _himself_, by his own choice. I have no use for him and he is—was—a danger to me. He is not yours any more, nor is this house; I am taking on house-elves who will do _my_ bidding."

He turned to Dobby and Winky. "You two agreed to be hired by me for this house. My first command is to clean up the mess Kreacher left. My second command is to take down Madam Black's portrait."

"No! I am Mistress here! I will _never_ let you be Master—" Her words were cut off, by both Moody and Snape aiming their wands at the portrait.

"_Incendio!" _they shouted in unison. Two bursts of flame came from their wands, igniting the portrait; it was fully engulfed in a moment, as were the rotting curtains. Dumbledore also quickly aimed his wand and cast a shield spell, creating a boundary around the painting that neither the flames nor the image could cross. There was one scream, and then silence but for the crackling flames.

In less than half a minute, there was nothing left but the charred remains of the frame and the blackened curtain rails. The ancient wallpaper behind the portrait was blackened and charred, but the wall itself seemed not to have been damaged. Moody and Snape looked at each other, nodded, and returned their wands to their sheaths. Dumbledore said a quiet spell, and gave a hand-gesture; with that, the smoke was dissipated.

"Seems we actually agreed about something, Snape," commented Moody.

"Indeed, it would seem so," Snape returned, with a slight smirk. He turned to Harry, who was staring at the wall, astonished. "I realize that the portrait was probably worth quite a few Galleons, but your guardian appears to be of the opinion that it was too dangerous for you to have here. Correct, Moody?"

"Correct," the ex-Auror agreed, with a crooked grin.

"And as Harry's other guardian, I agree too, Severus," Lupin chimed in. "If I had known that _that_ was all we needed to do, we could have done it months ago and saved us all a lot of aggravation."

Moody stumped down the long hallway where the other Black portraits were registering their shock. "The same'll happen to you lot if you cause any trouble whatever. There's a new Lord Black now, and he's not minded to take any of your troublemaking. He's got solid backing, too, and new house-elves who will take care of things properly so this place looks like a house instead of a rubbish tip. Clear?"

The portraits whispered for a few moments, until one said, "What will happen to us?"

"If you cause no trouble, nothing," Moody replied. "At the worst you'll go into storage. Lord Black only wants helpful and friendly residents of his house. If you cause any trouble for Lord Black or _any_ of his guests and friends, including Miss Tonks who is also half a Black by birth and next in line for the title, you'll get what she got. I'll be living here, as Lord Black's guardian, as will Lupin as his other guardian and the caretaker of the house; we'll be reporting to him regularly."

His voice hardened. "And don't even _think_ about sneaking out and telling anyone else about what goes on here," he warned. "Harry Potter is Lord Black, like it or not, and you're bound to _this_ household, not any other." The edge in his voice left for a moment, replaced by an overlay of cunning. "Now, if you're minded to let us know useful things about _other_ places…" He left the rest unspoken.

"And Winky will be a _good_ house-elf and clean up the remains," Winky added. She and Dobby had made Kreacher's corpse disappear; Dobby began removing the blood from the carpet while Winky began to remove the charred remains of the curtain rails and the picture frame.

Harry made his way over to the nearest chair, and sat down heavily. His head spun; he couldn't decide whether he wanted to throw up, or lie down on the nearest bed and pull the covers over his head for an hour or so. Seeing a living, intelligent being commit suicide in front of him effectively on his command, even though Kreacher had wanted to, was enough to make him question his own ethics and strength. _If it's this hard for me to order a death, even the willing one of a foul little traitor like that, to preserve the Order, what do I have to become to kill Tom?_ he wondered. _Did I do the easy thing, or the right thing? Or both, or neither?_

A gentle hand on his shoulder interrupted his musings. "All right there, Harry?" It was Tonks, and her eyes were full of concern.

Harry considered, and decided on the truth. An Auror probably saw far worse than that. "No, Tonks, I'm not. I just ordered a living being to off himself, because I couldn't think of anything else to do with him that would be safe for the Order. Problem is, I _wanted_ to hurt him for helping betray Sirius. Other problem is, he had no choice, once I gave him the order; he was a slave, just like the Death Eaters are slaves, and just as bound to obey."

He looked up at the Auror. "Did I do right, and give him mercy, or did I do wrong, and help commit a murder? If I'm right, why am I sickened by it? And if I'm wrong, why didn't you stop me?"

Without waiting for an answer, he hung his head and sighed. "And worse yet, I'll have to figure out a way to tell Hermione about it, without telling her I gave the order, or I'll never hear the end of it."

Tonks shrugged. "Harry, remember he was quite old as house-elves go, and was about three parts crazy. No sane elf would have neglected this place for so long. Just tell her he offed himself because he was senile and too conflicted between having you as a Master and his own training to only serve pureblood Blacks. That part's true; I was watching him, and for that you are not legally liable. Really, he's better off not suffering. As to the rest of it: kid, this is wartime; this will not be the last of the hard life-or-death choices made, and not just by you. That you worry about the ethics of it shows me that you're still a good guy."

"Master Harry Potter Sir, you is forgetting something, or maybe you is not knowing, being raised by Muggles who have no house-elves," another voice cut in, at about the region of his knee. When he looked, he saw that it was the Hogwarts house-elf Gaby. "Kreacher was a _bad_ house-elf, bad clear through. _Look_ at this house. If Mistress Lavinia has been dead more than ten years, and no one lived here until Master Sirius came home last year, then it should be perfectly clean and neat. Kreacher should have been keeping this house properly until someone could claim it and live in it, not neglecting his work. If there is not a Master in the House to make a mess, then one house-elf is enough for the work. Master Harry said true words when you told Kreacher he was past his work; he should have been allowed to behead himself years ago, but there was no one to tell him to do it, and Master Sirius wouldn't, as he _should_ have. No house-elf is better than a bad one."

When Harry did not reply, Gaby continued. "Headmaster Dumbledore Sir has told Gaby and Leno that Master Sirius could not give Kreacher clothes because he knew too much and would tell Master's secrets, but he told some anyway. Mistress Narcissa should not have been able to give him orders to tell secrets; while she is a Black, Kreacher was bound to _this_ house, and to its rightful Master Sirius, not to Mistress Narcissa or Mistress Bellatrix. Kreacher neglected his work, and this house is still a mess, even with all the Wizards helping to clean; it will take time for Dobby and Winky to make it right. Kreacher listened only to a portrait, and ignored the needs of the family he was _supposed_ to serve, Master Sirius and his guests. Kreacher told secrets, and Master Sirius was killed. Kreacher was a bad house-elf, and we is all agreeing—Leno, Dobby, Winky, and Gaby—that Master Harry Potter did the right and noble thing. Master let Kreacher behead himself and at least die quickly with honor and not disgrace house-elves any more."

"That doesn't make me feel any better, for having to order it," Harry replied dully. "I neither like nor approve of slavery, and the things that slaves have to do; magical slaves of any kind are still slaves. Ordering a slave that _I_ owned to kill himself because he was too dangerous to let live or to set free makes me sick. The very idea of owning one makes me feel like a monster."

"Then you does not understand house-elves, any more than your friend Miss Hermione does," Gaby said firmly. "We is born and bred to serve; that is what we are made for. Whether we is bound like Kreacher, or free hires like Dobby, it is our place to work and serve, and the place of Wizard and Witch Masters to give orders. Master must do what is best for Master, and in this case, what is best for Master was also mercy for Kreacher. He would not serve, he could not leave, and his new Young Master was not a fit one in his eyes. You were better to Kreacher than he deserved; you did not make him punish himself before you let him behead himself."

"If I had, I would have been a worse monster," Harry replied. "I did what I _had_ to do: more was not needed. Letting him kill himself was bad enough; making him punish himself first would have been unwarranted torture. I won't do that."

"And that is why Master Harry Potter Sir will be listed as a great and noble Wizard, not a bad Wizard," Leno said softly. Harry had not heard him come up. "Master Harry Potter is kind and generous, and will not hurt anyone who does not need it, even if they deserve it."

_A lot he knows,_ thought Harry, remembering his failed Cruciatus in the Ministry. Aloud, he said, "Thank you, Gaby and Leno, for helping today. I will tell Headmaster Dumbledore that you were both good house-elves and very helpful. Please report to him; unless you want to help Dobby and Winky get started on the cleaning, you can go back to Hogwarts with him." Both elves beamed, and vanished.

Harry looked around. The bloodstain was gone as if it had never been there, as were the charred remains of the portrait; neither Dobby nor Winky were in sight.

"Now what, oh great and noble Lord of the House?" asked Tonks, with a little giggle that spoiled her slightly sardonic tone.

Harry sighed and stood up; he ignored both the title and the giggle. "Let's go find the Headmaster, and then go see how Buckbeak is doing. I need to get him out of the house; he's been cooped up too long, and this really isn't a fit place for him to live in; Dumbledore might be able to move him out." He and Tonks headed out of the entrance hall to look for the others.

II: Departure

They found Dumbledore in the first-floor drawing room. As it had the last time Harry was there, it still had a writing desk and a few bits of moldering furniture. Dumbledore was casually Transfiguring the peeling wallpaper into something fit to be seen; he seemed to be doing various tests of colors, as every strip was a different color and pattern. He turned as Harry and Tonks entered.

"What do you wish done next, Harry?" he asked gently. No hint of criticism was heard at all.

Harry was direct and to the point. "I want to try to find a way to move Buckbeak out. Is there anywhere else he can go, like maybe the Forbidden Forest? This is no life for him, crammed into a townhouse bedroom; he can't get any exercise. I have a broomstick, so I don't need a riding beast."

Dumbledore was equally direct. "I think that would be an excellent idea." He turned toward the Auror. "Miss Tonks, if I make a Portkey directly there, and save both of you the strain of a long flight, will you escort Buckbeak to Hagrid? He can find a suitable location for him."

"Sure," Tonks said, "if you do it that way; I like him. We get on all right."

That was how it was done: the three of them went to Mrs. Black's bedroom and bowed to the hippogriff; then Dumbledore explained what he intended to do, Tonks mounted and held on, and Dumbledore made a Portkey from Buckbeak's collar, which Tonks grasped firmly. In a few moments there was nothing left but a pile of straw, feathers, droppings and rat bones, all of which Dumbledore removed with well-aimed _Evanesco_ spells; he then finished the job with a few _Scourgify_ spells. In moments, the room was cleaner than it had been in years.

"Now," Dumbledore said, "all that is left is to sort through the rest of the things, and that need not be done today. Let us see where the others are; I must now go into the study to get those letters of which Sirius spoke in the will." He and Harry split up, he to the study and Harry to the library.

III: Complications From the Past

Harry found Snape in the library, taking something long and slender from a dusty, glass-fronted bookcase. Snape turned at the sound of Harry's entrance.

"This has to be an heirloom of my family; it has our crest on it," he said, holding out a fancy dagger with a blade about a foot long, in a silver sheath inlaid with an ornate enamel crest. The pommel ended in a dark red jewel that looked enough like a ruby to Harry as no matter.

Harry shrugged. "I'm told that most of the old families are intermarried with each other somewhere along the line; this probably belonged to a Snape who married a Black. They might even still be on the tapestry. Go ahead and keep it, if it's from your family; I have more than enough stuff, and it won't mean as much to me."

"Thank you," Snape replied softly. He continued examining the dagger, as Harry walked around the room, noting things to be cleaned off and things to dispose of.

As he noted the state of a reading lamp (very dirty, but not broken, so usable), he became aware that the Potions Master seemed to be quietly talking to himself. This was unusual enough that Harry watched the man out of a corner of his eye, and listened to the soft words.

"Salazar's wand—this appears to be 'Heart's-Ease'! That has been lost for so long…I wonder if it still retains its properties…" Snape turned the sheathed blade over in his hands, eyeing it closely. After a moment, he drew forth the blade, which appeared to be heavily engraved with an intricate pattern. "Yes—this _is_ 'Heart's Ease'! The pattern on the blade is of that flower!"

He became so engrossed in the blade, in fact, that he totally ignored Harry, and the sheath was let fall from his hand. That set off an alarm in Harry's mind; this was not like Snape, to ignore his surroundings, and to so carelessly drop an heirloom he was studying. Under cover of examining a shelf of books in one of the wall bookcases, he slowly moved closer to the man to hear what he was saying and to get a closer view. As he listened, his misgivings grew.

"Yes—I can sense it; it can still give its gift. What is the price, though? Ah—" he gave a sharp intake of air. "Yes, it focuses it all in one place, to be eased all at once…" His breathing grew a little faster. "Yes, this is the answer: I can see it now—it takes it _all_ away…" His dark eyes began to unfocus a little, to be almost glazed.

Harry's alarm senses were now on full alert. There was something seriously wrong here; it was unheard of for Snape to so talk to himself. That dagger was ensorcelling him, and to do so to such an experienced Dark Wizard as Snape was it must be quite powerful. He decided to interrupt this before it went too far, and take his chances with the man's uncertain temper afterwards. He moved closer, so that Snape could see him.

"Professor?" he said, loudly enough to be heard clearly. "Are you all right?"

At first Snape ignored him. But when Harry repeated his question, he then said, "Never better, and soon better yet," with a sad little smile, not looking at Harry at all.

Harry panicked as he realized that the man had turned the blade around to point at himself. Forgetting to draw his wand in his haste to prevent a tragedy, Harry threw out his hand and cried _"No! Expelliarmus!"_ A bright scarlet light flashed from his hand, striking Snape full in the chest. The dagger went one way; Snape went the other, and ended up stumbling backwards over a footstool and landing heavily on his back on the floor. He lay still and did not move, but was still breathing fast.

"_Dobby! Moony! _Library!" Harry called.

Dobby appeared instantly. "What does Master—"

Harry cut him off. "Get Dumbledore—_NOW_!" Dobby went. Harry ran to Snape, and knelt beside him. "Sir? Can you hear me?" There was no answer. Only the man's harsh breathing showed that he still lived.

Dumbledore was there instantly; he had Apparated. "What has happened?"

"He's been bewitched—it's that dagger on the floor, don't touch it—I thought…I thought…" Harry started shaking with the reaction. This was too much after all that had already happened that day; he could not bear the thought of what might have happened, had he not been there.

Dumbledore knelt beside Snape, felt for a pulse, and then pulled out his wand to point at the man for a quick scan. "Harry, he's all right, just stunned a bit…why, child, what is wrong?" He put a steadying arm around Harry, who was still trembling.

Harry could no longer stand it; he threw both arms around the old man, and buried his face in his shoulder. "He…it tried to _kill _him…I Disarmed him, but I knocked him across the room, and he won't wake up…" He held on and would not let go.

Lupin was next into the room, followed by Moody. They both halted at the sight of Dumbledore with his wand out, holding a nearly hysterical Harry in the other arm, and Snape sprawled out on the floor.

"Good," said Dumbledore, when he saw the other two men. "I need your help. Remus, please put Severus on that couch, and try if you can to revive him. Harry says he Disarmed him, but that should not have stunned him like this. Be sure that he did not hit his head in the fall. Alastor, please look for a dagger on the floor, but do not touch it with your bare hands. Harry says it is bewitched, and that it has enspelled Severus."

Moody frowned. "Did he attack Harry?" he demanded.

"No," Dumbledore replied. "Harry says that the _dagger_ tried to _kill_ Severus." He held Harry tightly. "Shh, child; I will not leave you. Please calm down; help is here, and no harm has been done."

"No harm? He's hurt, and I did it," sniffled Harry. His tears were now soaking the Headmaster's robes.

"Harry, please tell us exactly what _did_ happen, and then we will see what needs to be done," Dumbledore suggested gently.

Across the room from the couch, Moody levitated the dagger with his wand. "This it?" he asked.

Harry looked up, and nodded. "The sheath's over there on the floor by that open bookcase," he said, in a small voice. "I think…I think it's safe if it's _in_ the sheath, but not out of it." His trembling had stopped, but he was now mortally ashamed for breaking down. Dumbledore sensed that.

"Harry, I suspect this was too much, after the events of today, when you are still not fully healed from before," he offered gently. "None of us will blame you for losing control in private, with only family here. Now, what _happened_, please? And do you need a Calming Potion first?" He loosened his grip so that Harry could sit up.

Harry pulled off his glasses, swiped at his eyes with his robe sleeve, took a few deep breaths, and steadied himself. _All right, he's not dead,_ he reminded himself. _They need to know, and I need to know what could pull in someone as strong as he is!_ He began telling everything from when he had entered the room. Dumbledore, Moody (who had returned the dagger to its sheath) and Lupin all listened closely. When he got to the part about Snape dropping the sheath to examine the blade further, and talking to himself, and how he had felt increasingly uneasy, Lupin interrupted.

"Harry, your instincts were right on the mark. If he were studying some artifact, he would have sat at the desk with a light and studied it there. He would have never just dropped it on the floor, the more so if it were an heirloom of his Family. Severus is far too meticulous for that."

"And it is totally unlike Severus to talk to himself, or to ignore his surroundings, else he would not have lived so long as a spy," Dumbledore confirmed. "Do go on, Harry."

"He called it 'Heart's Ease', as if that were its name, and that it had been lost for a long time," Harry continued. At that, Dumbledore stiffened; his face paled a little.

"Are you _sure_, Harry?" he asked tensely.

Harry nodded; he was calming down. He didn't see the tense concern flash across Dumbledore's face. "He said that's the pattern on the blade, some kind of flower," he continued. "And then, his eyes kind of…glazed over, almost like he was under Imperius, and he turned the blade around, and…I _couldn't_ let him do that! Not after today, and not when the Order needs him. I couldn't just…!" His voice started to rise again.

"You did right, Harry," Dumbledore soothed. "Then what happened? What exactly _did_ you do to him?"

"I—I guess I panicked; I threw a Disarming Charm at him. It hit him, and he went one way and the dagger another. He tripped over that footstool, went down, and didn't move any more."

"Where was he when you hit him, and where were you?" Moody asked.

"Where the sheath is, over by that glass-fronted bookcase." Harry pointed at the open case. "I was over by that side table near that tall bookcase."

Moody went over to the bookcase, took out his wand, and used a Charm Harry hadn't seen before to measure the distances. "Quite a Disarming Charm you nailed him with, if you knocked him ten feet one way, and bounced the dagger off the other wall," he commented. "He might've gone farther if he hadn't fallen over that footstool. When did you draw your wand?"

"Uh—" Harry racked his brain, and then grew cold. "I—I don't think I _ever_ did..." He rummaged in his robes, and felt the handle of his wand, where it had been all along. "Oh, Merlin—I hit him hard _without_ a wand…" He let go of his wand, and buried his face in his hands.

Lupin and Dumbledore exchanged glances. The Headmaster pulled Harry back into the embrace for a moment, giving him as much comfort as he could, then let go and held him at arm's length. "Harry, listen to me, please," he said quietly, but firmly; he allowed a bit of his power to show. Unwillingly, Harry raised his head.

"Harry, my dear boy, you have saved a man's _life_ today," Dumbledore continued soberly. "I will have to talk to Professor Dumarest about this, but you were absolutely correct: this dagger _is_ cursed, and moreover if his family crest is on it, he was right when he said it was a Snape artifact; in fact, it is tied _to_ his family. Every dagger with that curse I ever heard of was the property of one of the old Dark families. I have not heard of one appearing in almost a century, and I last saw one longer ago than that; this has to be at least two or three hundred years old, and has probably lain there in the cabinet for decades, unnoticed. I doubt Sirius even knew of it. The 'Heart's Ease' curse is much older than that; it was rare in my young days and is almost unheard of in this day and age. I doubt there is anyone alive now who could properly perform it, except perhaps Tom, and this is not his style. This was a topic covered lightly when I was at Hogwarts, in a unit of my Seventh-Year NEWT Defense class covering cursed artifacts and Dark Curses. You did the right thing, using a Disarming Charm, to separate him from the blade."

"And the other is why we took you out of Privet Drive," Lupin said quietly. "I _told_ you that you had great power, barely in control. You used wandless magic to execute a powerful charm, because you were already upset and you could not bear the thought of a second suicide in front of you. You emotions fueled the charm; you didn't _need_ your wand. This is what Severus thought you might do to your relatives, and we agreed with him."

Harry stared at the floor. "Then why isn't he waking up?"

"I suspect a residue from the curse, plus the strength of your Charm at fairly close range, plus the fact that he was totally unshielded," Dumbledore replied. "He will wake shortly. In the meantime…" He let go of Harry, rose and went over to the side table where Moody had laid the dagger; it was now safely in its sheath. "Let us see…" he mused. He took his wand and ran it lightly over the dagger from pommel to tip; he then nudged it partway out of the sheath with his wand, and touched the etched blade lightly with the wand tip, whispering a soft spell as he did. He then very cautiously touched the surface of the hilt with the tip of one long finger, and then did the same with the gemstone on the pommel. After a few moments, however, he seemed to stop, and freeze, with just the tip of his finger still touching the gem. His lined face, already pale, slowly drained of color even more. After a moment, he nudged it back into the sheath, and stood straighter.

"Dobby? Please attend me," he said aloud. He went over to the couch, conjured up a chair with a careless flick of his wand, and sank down heavily on it next to the couch.

The house-elf appeared. "You called for Dobby, Headmaster Sir?" he asked.

"Please return to Hogwarts if you will, and ask Professor Dumarest in private to come here immediately; I need her help," Dumbledore said softly. Dobby left with a bow.

All in the room noticed the old man's change in demeanor. A veil of old sorrow clouded his eyes, and his aura of power had diminished to almost nothing. Age had dropped over him as well; at that moment, he truly looked as if every one of his one hundred and fifty-six years had finally caught up with him. Nothing at that moment showed him to be the greatest Light Wizard alive, just a fragile, sad, and very old man.

"Albus? What's wrong?" asked Moody. He had pulled over another chair and had settled onto it. Now both his mortal and magical eyes regarded the old Headmaster.

"I will explain when Tish gets here," Dumbledore replied quietly. "But this is part of getting old: you think you have forgotten something until you are forcefully reminded of it. I have seen either _this_ dagger, or one very like it, over a century ago, under very painful circumstances." He fell silent once again.

Harry, already shaken by Snape's reaction to the dagger, was now frightened for Dumbledore.

He had never seen the old man so fragile, not even on the night when he had trashed the Headmaster's office. He immediately went over to him.

"Sir? It'll be all right. Please, don't _you_ fall for this thing," he begged. He didn't know what else to do, so he dropped to one knee, threw both arms around Dumbledore and held him tightly, trying to return some of the comfort just given him. Perversely, his mind flashed back to the office scene of the previous month, where he had almost struck Dumbledore in anger.

_He's really old_, thought Harry, feeling the thin body in his arms and burying his face in the long silver hair flowing over the bony shoulder. _He's a great and powerful Wizard, but physically he's so frail and tired. I could have really hurt him that night, and he would have let me. I could have broken bones or worse._ The tears began to slip out again. An arm came around him, as Dumbledore responded to the embrace with one of his own.

Lupin went over to the two of them, and stood there, one hand on a shoulder of each in silent support; he couldn't think of anything else useful to do. _This is too much_, he thought. _I'm glad it happened here and not in public. What in Merlin's name did that thing do to _Albus_? And poor Harry, too: this is far too much for him to bear on top of everything else. If seeing that thing nearly kill Severus wasn't bad enough, seeing Albus hurting…Harry still cares about him, and it's adding to his own burden. It just never stops for him!_

The silence was broken by the arrival of Antonia Dumarest, who entered the room, and stopped still, taking in the tableau. "What is wrong?" she asked. "Dobby says that you need me." She looked over at the couch, and did a double take at the sight of the unconscious man, who was beginning to stir a little. "And what has happened to Severus?"

"He nearly got caught up by a cursed dagger," Moody offered, seeing that no one else was going to speak first. "Harry there saw that it was pulling him in and Disarmed him so hard he knocked him out. _He's_ all right I think, just Stunned. But Albus is really upset about the dagger; that's when he called you."

Dumarest went over to where Lupin was still holding onto Harry and Dumbledore, and went around them to face the latter. "Albus, I'm here. What's happened?" She reached over and took the one hand she could reach.

Dumbledore straightened up a little. "Thank you, Remus," he said, as he looked up at his friend. His eyes were damp, but his voice was calm. Some of his infirmity seemed to leave him, and his strength return. Lupin took it for a dismissal, gave both a final squeeze, and retreated to the arm of the couch upon which Snape lay. Dumbledore, however, did not let go of Harry.

"Tish, Alastor is right," he began softly, turning to her. "Severus nearly fell victim to a cursed dagger. When was the last time you saw a dagger with the Snape crest on the sheath—and the 'Heart's Ease' curse on it?"

The Potions Mistress gasped. "Albus, that was _so_ many years ago…there was one in the family collection that had been there since before I was born, but it hasn't been there in years; I know Justinian never had it, and I don't think Aurelius did either. I think Father showed it to us once, and warned us not to touch it. I thought he might have sold it, but as Aurelius got the goodies I didn't worry about it."

Dumbledore bowed his head. "Tish, that's what Mimi killed herself with. I'm almost certain it was that one; I could sense that it has given its Gift more than once. When I touched it, I had a painful recall of finding her—almost as if it were yesterday…you have _no_ idea how much we owe Harry that he saved Severus from a like fate."

"But how did it get _here_?" Dumarest wondered. "And how did Mimi get a Snape dagger? If that's what took her, wouldn't it have been a Black dagger?"

"And who _was_ Mimi?" asked Moody, confused. "And what Gift are you talking about?" Lupin looked equally bewildered.

Dumbledore took in a deep breath, held it, let it out slowly, and looked over at his friends. There was a deep sadness in the light blue eyes. "I will explain. But let us first wake Severus; he deserves to know this, and I would prefer to tell it only once."

He looked down at Harry, who was still holding him tightly. "I'm all right now, Harry," he said softly. "You can let go now; it was just an old and sad memory."

Harry looked up. "Are—are you sure?" he asked in a small voice. Dropping his voice to a whisper, he added, "It's just that…I couldn't help remembering that I could have really hurt you last month, and you looked much worse just now than you did then."

Dumbledore's gaze was unwavering; while his eyes were still filled with sadness they were now clear. "But you didn't," he replied, matching Harry's whisper. "And I thank you for the comfort now, which I did need. You have such a heart, to think only of my pain when you are still in shock yourself. Please let go now; Severus will need me when he wakes, and I think Remus will need you."

He let go of Harry and handed him over to Lupin; then he rose, pulled over the footstool over which Snape had fallen, and sat on it beside the couch to bring himself more nearly level with him. "Severus, my friend, it is all right; please wake up." He raised his wand, and ran it lightly through the air over the length of the man on the couch; then he aimed it at him and quietly said, _"Enervate."_

Snape stirred a little more, and then awakened. The first thing he saw was Dumbledore's concerned face.

"Albus? What happened?" he asked, in almost a whisper. It hurt to breathe for the ache in his chest.

"What do you remember?" Dumbledore countered.

Snape had to think a minute. "I saw something with my family crest on it in the bookcase; Potter came in and I mentioned it, and he said I could have it. It was a dagger, a very fine antique Spanish-made one…"

Snape's voice faltered; he lay there in silence for a minute, and then resumed. "I remembered something Father once told me, in a discussion of lost family treasures, about an enchanted dagger called 'Heart's Ease', which had the power to relieve emotional pain. I am certain that the dagger in the case is that one; it had the etched flower patterns on the blade surface…" His voice halted for a few moments again, and then continued. "But it must have lost the charm; I feel no different…but why am I on the couch?"

"You do not remember talking aloud about the blade and its Gift?" Dumbledore asked gently.

Snape frowned; there was something teasing his mind, and an uncharacteristic fog clouded the edge of his memory. "No, and I am…unclear of mind about it," he said slowly. The fog was receding; he looked around and saw Moody and Lupin, with a very upset-looking Potter being held by Lupin. He also saw Antonia Dumarest, who had not been there before. Something had happened: but what? "Antonia, what are you doing here?"

"Albus called me," she replied. She took his wrist, checked his pulse, and scanned him with her wand. "No serious aftereffects, Albus; he might bruise a little where the spell hit him."

"What is the last thing you remember?" asked Dumbledore.

"I remember taking it out of the bookcase," Snape began softly. "I looked it over and confirmed that it was indeed our crest. I told this to Potter, and he said I could have it. I thought of how to confirm its identity; I pulled it out of the sheath, and saw the flower etchings—then apart from a bright light I remember nothing more." He drew in a breath, let it out slowly, and added, "I do not think it worked on me; I feel no different in mind. But why does my chest hurt?"

"Oh, but it _was_ working on you," Dumbledore replied soberly. "You were interrupted before it could give you its Gift. The Disarming Charm that did that hit you in the chest."

"But why? Do I not deserve peace of mind?" Snape was puzzled, and a little annoyed, although if truth were told most of the annoyance was with himself, his forgetfulness, and allowing himself to be blindsided, as had obviously happened.

Dumbledore took his friend's hand in both of his own, and added just a touch of power to his words. The apparent infirmity and age-weariness had faded away, almost as quickly as it had arrived. "Severus, no one needs and deserves it more than you, and no one desires it for you more than I. But I don't want it to be at the cost of your_ life_, and that is what nearly happened. You were interrupted because it appeared that you were about to take your own life."

"_What?"_ Snape was even more befuddled; and even more so when he saw the deep pain in his mentor's eyes.

"Yes. The dagger you held is indeed named 'Heart's Ease', which is also the name of a very old curse that it bears. What this curse does is to concentrate all the sadness, all the despair, and all the negative feelings that a person has, and cause it to coalesce into a single deep pain in the heart; then it offers instant release of all that pain by use of the blade. Needless to say, taking that release is usually the last thing the victim does; not many survive a blade in the heart. And as this is an artifact of a family of Dark Potions Masters and Mistresses, then I suspect the blade may also be poisoned. Possibly the hilt is coated with some relaxant or resistance-lowering potion as well, or maybe a separate, layered charm. I have seen this happen _once_ before; I don't want to see it happen ever again." He then let go.

Snape bit back a reflex to snap back at Dumbledore, who was being, as often, annoyingly indirect. But it was obvious that his mentor was deeply upset, and also that he wasn't the only one. Potter had obviously been crying, and Snape doubted that it had been over that wretched excuse for a house-elf.

Before he could form another question, Harry pulled away from Lupin, came over beside Dumbledore, and knelt on the floor. "Please, Professor, I think it would be easiest if you simply saw and heard what I did. Then you can judge if I did you right or wrong, and we can work out the details afterwards. You have your wand; use Legilimency and view my last memories. I _saw_ what you can't remember doing, and I'm why you're on the couch."

Now Snape knew there was something truly wrong. It had been a deeply personal offer when Potter had given the three of them the Pensieve memory of the tragic end of the Third Task; this was even more personal, the more so as Potter was obviously upset. His desire to know what happened warred with his own memories of dealing with Potter's often-chaotic mind. As he often did when so conflicted, he looked over at Dumbledore.

"Albus? Opinion?"

"Absent a Pensieve, this is the fastest way to show you what happened," Dumbledore replied. "Harry is the only one who was in the room with you; seeing it from his point of view will tell you far more than merely hearing his account of what he saw and heard, which we three already have done. I will bring Tish up-to-date while he does so. Then after that, I will need to tell you all something." He held out his hand again. "Come, do you think you can sit up?"

Snape took the hand and let the Headmaster pull him up into a sitting position. He then looked at the kneeling boy—no, young man—Potter could no longer be truly called a boy; if indeed he ever could have been with the life he had led.

"Again, you are making me a far more generous offer than you realize," Snape said quietly.

"I suggest that you not judge that, Sir, until you see what happened," Harry replied. He looked directly into the black eyes, and consciously relaxed. "Whenever you're ready, Sir."

Seeing that further delay would be unprofitable, Snape drew his wand, aimed it at Harry, and softly said "_Legilimens_". This was the first time he had done so to Harry since the night of their quarrel over the Pensieve.

The spell took him into Potter's memory; from that point of view, he saw himself standing at the bookcase. Unlike the other times, when he had tried to encourage Potter to force him out, this time he was given a free pass into the scene. He saw himself staring at the blade, dropping the sheath, and talking to himself; he heard the soft mumble of his own words. He also felt the rising fear that something was wrong, and heard his totally uncharacteristic reply to the question about his well-being. He then felt the spike of pure panic, when Potter saw him aim the blade upward toward himself, in the perfect angle for…then he heard the Disarming Charm and saw the light strike his vision-self, sending him flying halfway across the room, over the footstool, and down to the floor, motionless. He heard and saw Potter's reactions, and then pulled out of the other's mind at the point when he saw Dumbledore arrive.

When he pulled free, he turned away from the disturbing green eyes and met Dumbledore's sad blue ones. He noticed for the first time the slight reddening around them, and suspected Potter had not been the only one with tears.

Dumbledore's soft voice broke the silence. "Do you understand, now, why Harry took it away from you?"

Snape gave a brief nod. "He feared that I was going to…make use of it," he replied, just as softly. Then, as the last of the mental fog finally dissipated, the memory of both the pain and the promise hit him like a Bludger all at once. "Oh Merlin—I…I _remember_ now! The pain was so bitter…and the promise…" His free hand, which was again clasped in the older man's, now tightened its grip as his voice faltered.

"And had Harry not been there in time, we would have found your lifeless body, an obvious suicide," Dumbledore finished. "That we would have discovered the curse afterwards would not have made a difference: you would still be dead, and left us the poorer for it. A friend of mine from school fell victim to one of these and perished; I was the one who found her, too late." He returned the grip, held it, and then let go. His eyes grew distant as he revisited a century-plus-old memory.

"Mimi Black was a dear friend of mine, a year behind me in Ravenclaw; she and I were together for a while, and we were starting to make marriage plans. This was around 1870, about a dozen or so years after we left school; I had begun working with Nicholas at the time. But she was one such as Tish is, a Light Witch from a Dark family. 'Mimi' was for 'Mimosa', which is both a star name, as the Blacks' naming tradition preferred, and the name of what is commonly called a 'Sensitive Plant', which is a plant that visibly reacts to touch. That fit her; she had more caring in her than three generations' worth of the entire rest of her family.

"She had no reason whatever to harm herself; she had finished a Charms apprenticeship and was planning to go back to Hogwarts and teach. This was long before Filius was even out of school. Then one afternoon I went to see her at her flat, and found her already cold, with this blade in her heart.

"I never did find out who gave it to her. But while we Dumbledores are pureblooded and landed, we are hardly noble; all our wealth was always in our magic. Her family was much higher in social status than mine, and detested that I was also firmly Light-biased all my life. They had hoped for her to marry Adrian Malfoy, but she despised him; had he not been killed in a duel, I have no doubt that he would have been the Dark Lord of our generation. I would not have put it past _them_ to do so—but the fact that it was a Snape dagger made no sense then and still does not, as they were not Snapes, and the male Snapes of that time were already married."

Madam Dumarest suddenly gave a slight gasp; all the others immediately turned her way. Her eyes were now wide open, and she had the appearance of someone hit hard with an idea.

"Tish? What is it?" asked Dumbledore anxiously.

"It fits…it all fits…oh, that poor girl…" she whispered. She was silent for a moment, and then started a low-voiced monologue in what sounded like French. What few words Harry could catch sounded like curses; and her tone grew angrier. The other four Wizards stared; they seemed to understand at least part of it.

"Who?" asked Moody finally, reacting with his Auror training.

Dumarest switched back to English. "Aunt Julia, that vicious, bigoted little _tête de merde_…" She fell back into French for a moment, then stopped, looked over at Dumbledore, and sighed. "Albus, didn't you say that this house is the old Black townhouse, and that there is a Black genealogy tapestry in the main drawing room?" Dumbledore nodded. "I need to see it…" Dumarest got up and went out for a few moments.

When she returned, she looked almost as sad as her old schoolmate. "Albus, I can't really prove it after all this time, and by now all of them are dead too; but it's the only answer that fits all the facts," she said quietly. "Remember, I knew Mimi, too; she was in my House after all if a year older. She's on the tapestry, as is my Aunt Julia."

"So there _was_ a Snape who married a Black?" asked Harry. He had finally settled down, now that he knew that Snape and Dumbledore would be all right.

"Yes," Dumarest replied. She sat down on the couch next to her great-grandnephew. "My father was Titus Snape; his younger sister was Julia Circe Snape. She married Rigel Black, who was the elder son; he appears to have been the direct ancestor of your Sirius and his brother through his oldest son, which would make Severus and Sirius rather distant first or second cousins, about four or five times removed. His younger brother Alioth was the father of Mimosa Black—your Mimi. All of them but Mimi were typical Dark Snapes and Blacks, but Aunt Julia was a real piece of work, even more viciously bigoted and power-hungry than Father was. She was one of those who hated Robert, at least as much as Father and Aurelius did. If Rigel Black mentioned that Mimi was seeing you, then Julia would have given the dagger to Alioth; she detested the Dumbledores too. What happened after you found her?"

"I notified the Aurors; they in turn did the investigation and told me of the cursed dagger," Dumbledore said tonelessly. "But I could not imagine, then, where a Snape dagger would come from, and I never saw it again. Her family took her away, and the last I saw of her was her tombstone."

Dumarest nodded. "After Mimi died, it was never seen in our family again." She got up and went over to the table upon which it lay. As Dumbledore had done, so did she: scanned it with her wand, nudged it partway out of its sheath, touched the blade with the wand, and lightly touched both hilt and jeweled pommel with one fingertip. With a sigh, she resheathed it. "It's the one, all right. No wonder Julia was so smug, after Mimi died, about a 'birthday present' she gave Alioth. _Damn_ that bitch for causing so much pain! I know that Mimi got off lightly, though; this would have been a quick end. I'm not so sure about some other folks who died under shady circumstances about that time. That Bellatrix Black Lestrange you've told me about reminds me of Julia." She turned to Dumbledore. "And she'd be laughing if she saw that _you'd_ run across it, and hurt from it, over a hundred years later, when all of them are now gone, and that someone else you cared about would almost fall victim to it, even if it was another Snape."

She then looked back at her great-grandnephew, and her voice softened. "Severus, dear, you've somehow stumbled on old and painful family history. I'm so sorry that this happened."

Snape raised his head, nodded to his great-aunt, and then gave a small sardonic chuckle as he met Dumbledore's eyes again. "Albus, _now_ I see why you never gave me the Defense Against the Dark Arts post before. Some Defense Professor _I'm_ going to make, when I fall victim to a cursed Dark Artifact before I even begin to teach—_and_ get blindsided by a wandless Disarming Charm, that I never even saw coming, from a student."

This rare self-deprecating comment broke the tension a bit; Moody gave a snort and replied.

"Well, you did better than I did; you didn't spend ten months in a box before getting rescued." Dumbledore smiled, as did Lupin and Dumarest, who had resumed her seat on the couch. They knew that having an imposter in his place for the entire school term was one of Moody's most embarrassing memories.

Harry did not, though; he was still sitting on the floor with his head bowed. Snape noticed this.

"Harry," he said quietly, "thank you—both for saving my life and for being willing to show me making a fool of myself in private instead of in public. I owe _you_ one now."

"No, you don't, Sir," Harry replied. He raised his head, and looked up into the older man's eyes. "This is part of the Order Oath I took: to endure risks to aid each other, and to stand true to each other. _You_ fell victim to a hazard in _my_ house, which _I_ pledged for the Order's use, after helping us deal with that horrid portrait, and I haven't even thanked you for _that_ yet. And I remember it was my idea to have either you or Professor Dumarest come over here in the first place; this is indirectly my fault. I got you into the mess, so it was my obligation to get you out of it. You owe me nothing."

Harry stopped for a moment, took another deep breath, and then risked saying one more thing. This time, he could no longer meet Snape's eyes, and his voice was less steady. "Sir, I know you hazard your life for the Order. I know that some time…you might have to…to let yourself die. But if you _have_ to, then let it be of your own will, and for the good of the Order, not from something cursed before any of us were born and die for nothing. Not in my house, either, and not today; I couldn't stand it."

Professor Dumarest leaned over from where she sat next to Snape, laid a hand on Harry's shoulder, and gave it a squeeze. "Harry, I cannot see for the life of me how you could _possibly_ be at fault for any of this," she told him kindly. "You were sensible to bring in someone who knows Dark Artifacts, the more so since I understand that this house is full of them: but there was _no way_ you could have known about something like this. You certainly didn't know that this thing would be that powerful. You actually saved the life of the only member of my birth family who is worth anything, and you both inadvertently helped answer questions about the fate of an innocent woman murdered more than a century ago. I'm beginning to believe some of the stories about you. You saved the life of a man you don't particularly like, just because you thought it wrong for him to die from something like this. Thank _you_ for preventing another blot on our family name; there are too many as it is."

Harry looked up at her. "I just wish it hadn't caused so much trouble," he said sadly. "I didn't mean for him to fall into a trap, I didn't mean to hit him so hard, and I _really_ didn't know this would hurt Professor Dumbledore."

Dumarest shook her head. "Of course you didn't," she replied. "But a trap known is a trap that can be averted in the future. And under the circumstances, I figure that you could not control how hard you hit him. Better that, than what you saved him from."

"And remember, Harry, all this other happened a _very_ long time ago," Dumbledore reminded him gently. "I am sorry for letting it upset me so at this late date; I suspect that a bit of the curse was indeed actually beginning to affect me a little. Mimi was the first woman I ever seriously considered marrying, and losing her was very painful. Now that I know the truth, I can let her rest again." He had regained his usual calm; he no longer looked so weary, and his eyes were brighter.

Snape eyed Harry for a moment, and cocked his head slightly in an inquiring gesture. "Tell me something: are you _certain_ that you have no talent for Divination?" he asked.

The question was so unexpected Harry started, and stared. "Uh—why?" he managed to get out.

The dark eyes shone with just a hint of humor. "First, you suggested I come here, or Aunt Antonia, in order to spot Dark Arts items you and the other Light Wizards would miss. That has happened, although I did not expect it to be something from my own family, nor one imbued with a curse that has lain dormant but potent since before my grandparents were born. Second, you suggested that I was the only one who could actually talk to Madam Black; that has happened as well. Third, you saw clearly what I was cursed to do, and blocked it. So far, you are doing better than Sibyll Trelawney on her best days; as far as I know, she has only given _two_ real prophecies, and those many years apart."

Harry continued staring; the others chuckled softly. They saw more clearly than Harry did that Snape was trying—in his own snarky manner, of course—to ease the situation with his quirky dark humor. The man didn't "do nice", but he was not totally without sympathy.

Finally, Harry managed to speak. "Well, I haven't gotten my OWL results yet, but I don't think I did too well in Divination. So no, I doubt that I have the kind of 'Inner Eye' Professor Trelawney's always on about. I'm not sure I want it; I have enough problems with the 'Inner Eye' viewpoint I _do_ have." He managed a small, wry smile, as all the adults smiled; they knew exactly what he meant. Lupin mentally tallied one point for Snape and one for Harry in that exchange: points even, honor satisfied.

Dumbledore saw even more; both the boys he cherished were recovering from the incident, with no apparent permanent damage either to themselves, or to the fragile trust growing between them. In this time of impending war, he could ask no more.

"Severus, Tish, what do you wish done with 'Heart's Ease'?" he asked. "I know it is an heirloom of your Family, but I truly do not wish you or anyone else to fall victim to its lure again. There are others who might be tempted, even if they are not Snapes."

Snape considered that. "Now that we have seen it, I agree with you as to its danger. I do not wish it in the hands of the Ministry; I do not know if there is a law against that sort of Dark Artifact, but even so, that would be a certain way for it to fall into the wrong hands. And thrice over do I not wish my father to find out that it has resurfaced; he would sell it to Riddle or Malfoy in an instant, if he did not fall for it himself. He has much more experience with Dark Artifacts than I, and would know what this is, but he is not as magically strong as I—and look at how quickly I fell. I cannot afford at this time to become the Head of my family."

"Is he…what you are, Sir?" asked Harry hesitantly.

"Do you mean 'is he Marked'?" Snape corrected, and Harry nodded. "No, he is one such as Black's parents were: sympathetic to the Pureblood cause, but not willing to openly support or partake in the 'excesses', as he calls it, that Riddle uses: torture, murder and war. His father picked the wrong side in the Grindelwald conflict, and is in a secure ward now, as I mentioned this morning; also, both his older brothers died for the same cause. Father learned his lesson and does not wish to take part in a war at all. He despises me because I _am_ Marked, and thus a bond-slave. At the same time, I _am_ his only heir, so he cannot be_ too_ harsh with me. He cannot get another legitimate heir unless he marries again; his next nearest living relatives, apart from Grandfather, are Aunt Antonia and her descendants, whom he despises, and who are on the distaff side."

"Maybe Bill Weasley could get the curse off it," suggested Lupin. "Taken just as a dagger, without the curses and such, it would still be a valuable antique. I'd hate to see such a work of art destroyed, if we could render it harmless."

Dumbledore rose, went over to the table, and scanned the dagger again with his wand. "I am sorry, but that dagger will have to be destroyed," he said soberly. "I sense that it is older than I first thought; it is at least three centuries old, and has in fact given its Gift more than just once before, each time reinforcing the charm. And while it is tied to your family, I heard it calling to me, and felt just a touch of its promises, over and above the painful and clear echo of poor Mimi's demise; in fact, it was almost inviting me to join her. If _I_ can feel it, as far distant to you in kinship and as strong as I am, then it is far too dangerous for anyone _else_ I trust to deal with. I am not certain that even Filius Flitwick, who is as talented a Curse-Breaker as I know, even better than Bill, could lift all the enchantments. Then it would have to have the potions on it neutralized; since both of the best Potions people I trust are Snapes by blood, and thus especially vulnerable, I cannot risk it; while I, as an Alchemist, have both the Potions and Charms skills, it is still a risk to me. Had you indeed used it as it was intended, the poison on the blade would have killed you faster than the actual stab wound, or the blood loss."

"For what it's worth, I agree," Moody said. "Something like that's too dangerous to be left around; what would we use it for? The only thing I can think of would be to make a present of it to Riddle; he's too smart to fall for something like that, even if it would work on him."

"I agree, too," Harry said in a small voice. "After seeing what its temptation is and what it almost did to him—it's tempting _me_, a _lot_, and I'm not even related to him so far as I know. I can't afford the hazard; I have enough." He took a deep breath, and spoke more firmly this time. "And if it's been here all this time, I guess I'm the legal owner, or was until I told him to take it. Dispose of it."

"And I agree as well," Lupin added. "I know how powerful Severus is, and it took him very quickly; someone of lesser talent, even if not related, would not stand a chance."

"Then get rid of it, and in a manner that will harm no one," Snape said decisively.

"Agree," Dumarest added in endorsement.

Dumbledore nodded once, turned back to the table, and Transfigured a broken clock into a small box. He put the dagger in it, closed the box and sealed it, shrank it, and tucked it away into a robe pocket. "It is insulated now. By this time tomorrow, it will be disposed of; I will tell you where and how afterwards."

"That is that, then. What now, Albus?" Snape asked.

For answer, Dumbledore reached into his pocket and withdrew a packet of letters. He riffled through them, extracted several, and handed one each to Snape, Lupin and Harry. "I suggest you read these later and in private," he said. "These are some of the letters that Sirius left for me to distribute; I have several more to deliver."

Snape stared at the envelope in his hand. "Considering what Black and I thought of each other, I had better open it remotely, and check it for curses beforehand," he said wryly as he tucked it away in a pocket. The others smiled a little.

IV: Plans

Harry likewise tucked away his letter. "I think that we should also do the…the service this week, maybe Thursday," he said quietly.

The others started and looked at him. "Is this not a little sudden, Harry?" asked Dumbledore, with concern. "You have only just taken possession of the house, and I was willing to have it at Hogwarts. And with all that has happened today, you need more of a rest than that."

"I know," Harry replied. "But the first joint regular meeting is Friday night, and I _know_ we're going to be rehashing the Ministry fiasco then. I think that having the memorial the night before will help us…deal with the meeting without tempers going through the roof. I'll manage. The only thing I'm concerned about is Tonks' work schedule."

"She is still on light duty, so she only works in the office during the days right now," Dumbledore assured Harry. "That will not be a problem. Kingsley will also be available, unless there is an emergency callout."

Harry nodded. "Besides," he added, "having it on a weeknight will throw off anyone expecting a big Order bash on a weekend. And having it here will throw off people expecting something at Hogwarts. That's part of why I went ahead with the claiming. By now, _someone_ will have noticed that there are more students and staff there than is usual for early summer."

"That's smart of you, Harry," Moody said gruffly. "I can spend the day tomorrow helping set up security with the house-elves while they clean up some more."

"Also, please pick out which room you want," Harry added. "If you're going to be living here you should have whichever one you like other than the ones Remus and I are in. You might as well bring in the rest of your stuff, too. After today, I think we'll need you here more than ever, if only to try to avoid more traps like this dagger and some of the cursed stuff we found here last summer."

Harry paused as another thought hit him. "Also—and I really hate to remind you of Fourth Year, but this applies: you live alone. You were taken once. I think that having you live here will benefit you as well as us." He managed a little smile. "And it's the least I can do for my new family."

Moody chuckled. "I can think of worse reasons," he replied. "Besides, now my other location is known; I was going to have to move anyway. This is as good a place as any."

Lupin, however, had noticed something. "You said that was only _part_ of why you went ahead with the claiming?" he asked gently.

Harry stared into space as he considered how best to answer. "Uh-huh," he replied. "I know I'm not healed up, as you say, and today didn't help as much as I hoped. I need to…to lay Sirius to rest, so that I _can_ heal, then get on with everything else. I can't afford to still be…reacting to things so badly. The meditation book you gave me is helping, but it's still hard to clear my mind. About all I can say for myself is that I haven't had any scar problems…yet."

He turned back to Lupin. "Moony, is this all right with you? You're the other part of his family; you should have a say."

"I agree," the Werewolf replied softly. "You and I are not the only ones, either; most of the Order members, including your friends, need the closure as well."

"Then I had better start sending out the notices," Dumbledore replied. "I will still need to leave someone at Hogwarts; Severus, will you wish to be excused from this?"

The Potions Master considered for a few moments. "I will be here," he said quietly, surprising Harry and Lupin. "It is not only Black's _friends_ who need to lay him to rest. And he _was_ one of us, little though I liked it; I will not dishonor the Order."

"And I will be, too, Albus," Dumarest added. "I never met the man, but I can get to know more of the Order this way." She stood. "I should be getting back. Severus, a little salve should do for your chest," she said as she left.

"Then I will leave Professor Sprout, who did not know him, in charge while the other Heads of Houses and I are here," Dumbledore decided. "Most of the rest of the Order should be able to come, even at this short notice, and this will also key them into the new wards here engendered by a new Master of the House."

"That reminds me," Harry remembered. "Dobby and Winky are now the house elves here. Winky insists on being properly bound to the house and me as the Master—I still have to do that—but Dobby is a free hire who chooses to serve _me_. Is there any way we can make one or both the house elves for the Order, kind of like an extended family, so that they will be obliged to keep the Order's secrets? For that matter, would it hurt to have Dobby be an Order member, if he wanted to be, to represent house elves?"

"I had not thought of that so far," Dumbledore admitted. "Certainly, they will have to be instructed to obey me as well as Remus and Alastor. They both already know that they are under a _Fidelius_ charm." The twinkle returned to his eyes a little. "May I give permission to Dobby to call me a 'barmy old coot' still?"

Harry managed a small smile. "That, sir, will be between you and him. So long as he shows proper politeness to everyone in public, what he calls you in _private_ is your business and his alone. But I think you'll scandalize a few people."

"I rather prefer to call it 'shaking up'," the old man returned, still with the smile.

"Then in that case, I suggest you call them, and give instructions for the preparations," Moody advised. "We'll need chairs for the service, and food for afterwards."

Harry nodded, and settled into an armchair. "Dobby! Winky!" he called.

The two house-elves appeared. "You called, Master Harry?" Winky squeaked.

"First, you're both doing a good job so far," Harry praised. "Second, we are having a memorial for Master Sirius on Thursday evening for the Order. I will need the largest main room cleaned and tidied up, and set up with enough chairs for the entire Order; Professor Dumbledore can tell you how many, and also what else is needed; I have never done one of these and have no idea of the requirements. If you need the room expanded, ask him if you can't do it. Third, if you think it needful, and he is agreeable, Professor Dumbledore could maybe lend us some of the Hogwarts house-elves, perhaps Gaby and Leno as they've already been here. I don't need the whole house made ready yet, just the bedrooms we're actually going to use, the Entrance Hall, the kitchen, and the main room for the service. Maybe we can find something nice to put up to replace Madam Black. Fourth, if it's customary, I'd like to have snacks and drinks afterwards, something light."

Harry took a deep breath; the two house-elves waited patiently. "Last, and most important: you have both told me that part of the deal between a house-elf and his or her Master was that you keep your Master's secrets, and his family's. Right?"

"That is right, Master Harry Potter Sir," Dobby replied firmly.

Winky nodded her agreement. "That is part of why Kreacher was bad; he did not keep Master Sirius' privacy," she said firmly. "We is _good_ house-elves; we kept the secrets of our last families, even though they were bad Wizards. We will keep Master Harry's secrets."

"Very well," Harry nodded. "Now, I want you to know first that Remus Lupin and Alastor Moody will be living here; they are now my guardians, and they are to be considered family, just as if they were Potters or Blacks themselves. Mr. Moody will be in charge of security, and Mr. Lupin will be in charge of the general maintenance. Anything you need for house expenses and supplies, please tell one or the other of them, and they will be able to authorize it from the house accounts, which Mr. Lupin will help set up. Their secrets are to be kept as well as mine.

"Next—Headmaster Dumbledore is the leader of a group that meets here, the Order of the Phoenix. Master Sirius was a member, as were both my parents and all of us here. So are Professors Dumarest, McGonagall, Flitwick, Sprout, Hagrid, and I think Madam Hooch and Madam Pomfrey."

"The latter two are part-time members; they only deal with Hogwarts matters," Dumbledore put in.

Harry nodded, and continued. "This group fights against Tom Riddle, whom you call He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, and the other bad Wizards and Witches who work for him. In all matters relating to the Order and its security, Professor Dumbledore is to be considered the Master, even over me. He, as well as the other three of us, will have the authority to admit people here, as he is the Secret-Keeper for the Order. The secrets of the Order—who is in it, what is discussed, and so forth, are to be kept as if they were Potter family secrets. Are you with me so far?"

Both elves nodded. "We will treat Headmaster Dumbledore as Head of the Phoenix Family, and the rest of the Order as members of that Family," Winky replied. "Only he must tell us who is in that Family besides all of you here."

"That's an excellent idea," Harry agreed. "You can consider me a member of that Family, but the Headmaster is Head of Family. Miss Tonks is also a member."

Harry looked over at Professor Snape, who was again sitting on the couch upon which he had lain. "Since he is still here, I will mention it, for this is important," Harry continued. "You both served families of Dark Wizards who bore the Dark Mark of Tom Riddle. I take it that you can detect the Mark if you are so instructed?" At their nods he continued. "Professor Snape here bears the Mark as well: you likely know this after serving him at Hogwarts, but he truly serves Headmaster Dumbledore and the Order, and is to be considered a member of the Phoenix Family as well. This is one of the secrets of the Order: his life depends on not being found out. He is the _only_ one bearing the Mark who is allowed in this house; any _other_ person so Marked is to be captured or repelled if possible. _Only_ Professor Dumbledore or Master Moody have the authority to override this command, and they must identify the person by name as bearing the Mark, either as a loyal ally or as a prisoner. This is so we do not unknowingly admit someone who has it. That especially includes a rat Animagus named Peter Pettigrew, also known as Wormtail; Winky, you may have met him at the Crouch's house. His form is a large brownish rat with one silver paw, which is the right hand that Tom Riddle gave him. He is a traitor to the Phoenix Order, to Master Sirius Black, and to the Potter Family. And this applies triply to Mistress Bellatrix, Master Lucius, and any of their friends or families who support Tom Riddle, Marked or not; they are enemies of this Family and of this House, even though some of them are Blacks by birth. Will you have a problem with that?"

"Dobby is a free elf, and does not serve the bad Wizards any more," Dobby stated firmly. "Master Harry Potter set Dobby free, and Dobby will take care of him and serve him in all things, especially against my bad old Master. Headmaster Dumbledore gave me work when no one else would hire a free elf; I will take care of him as well and keep his secrets."

"Winky's old Master's family is all dead now," Winky said sadly. "Winky is wanting to be a good house-elf again; Winky will serve Master Harry Potter, the House of Black, and Headmaster Dumbledore and the Phoenix Family faithfully, even against the bad Wizards who were Master Barty's friends, and will never tell secrets."

"Then I accept your service," Harry replied, "under these terms and those we have already discussed. Now, I think there is a great deal to do to make this house fit for visitors in only three days, so you are excused to go back to work. Please tell Master Lupin or Master Moody if anything is needed." The two house-elves bowed and disappeared.

"And on that note, I think it would be best to return to Hogwarts; it is nearly dinnertime," Dumbledore reminded them. "I think we have done enough here for one day, and we will be in their way if we do not leave now." He picked up a dusty inkstand from the desk, aimed his wand at it, and murmured, "_Portus_"; it glowed blue for a moment. "Gentlemen, if you would…" All except Moody, who needed to return to his own home to prepare for moving into the Black House, touched the inkstand and were pulled the four hundred-plus miles to Hogwarts.


	3. Explanations, At Last

Disclaimers: Harry Potter and his world belong to J.K. Rowling and to her assorted publishers, not to me. Antonia Dumarest _is_ mine, as are the assorted Snape and Dumarest relatives, and may be used with permission; e-mail me.

Spoilers: All five HP novels.

**PRELUDE TO WAR: SUMMER**

Part Three: Explanations, At Last (Monday evening, 15 July 1996) 

I: Explaining to Friends

As Dumbledore had planned, the Grimmauld place group arrived in time for dinner, and was soon seated at the Staff Room dining table with the others.

"So, did everything go all right?" Ron asked Harry, as he busily cut up his roast beef.

Harry looked up; there was a shadow in his eyes Ron hadn't seen that morning. "Well, I wouldn't say that it went that smoothly, but yes, we did what we went there for," he said at length. "I have now magically claimed the House as the new Lord Black and Master of the House, and we can keep using it. We're also finally having the service for Sirius; it'll be Thursday evening, and we can have it there instead of here. It'll be safer."

He managed a thin smile. "And thanks to Mad-Eye and Professor Snape, Madam Black is history. We don't have to listen to her screeching ever again."

"How?" asked George.

"Well…" Harry began, "she got kind of mad when Kreacher beheaded himself right in front of her and us all."

"He _what_?" Hermione demanded. All the teens' eyes were now on Harry.

"Well, my claiming the house made Sirius' Will a binding Magical Contract," Harry explained. "In it, he gave Kreacher three choices, and I gave him all of them: serve me and the House of Black as the new Master; lock himself up in some cottage in Wales with the portraits for the rest of his life; or take the opportunity to join his ancestors. The Will let him do any of these. Apparently I wasn't a worthy enough Master for him to serve, and he didn't want to leave; so he did the latter." Harry managed to maintain a calm and even tone. "And before you ask: I could no more free him than Sirius could; he knew too much about the Order for our safety, and you _know_ who the next nearest relatives are. It was his talking to the Malfoys that helped them lay the trap. He was also about three parts senile, so I guess it was a mercy. We had two senior house-elves from here as well; you should have heard Gaby tell Kreacher off for telling secrets and not attending to his work. Anyway, Dobby and Winky are now working for me, and have promised many improvements."

"I want to know how they got down that portrait," Ron insisted. "Surely it didn't just fall off!"

"Nope," Harry replied, managing to turn his little smile into a slight smirk. "See, Kreacher did what he did in full view of her, and she got…rather mad about it. She started yelling that she wouldn't let me be the Master, and that's when Mad-Eye and Professor Snape _both_ cut loose with _Incendio_, at the same time. Dumbledore blocked the flames from taking anything else, and nothing was left but charcoal and a scorch mark on the wall."

The others perked up; this was something new, that Moody and Snape actually did something together. After a silence, Ron asked, "Why didn't they do that long before now?"

"I'm not sure," Harry confessed. "It might have to do with the fact that now that I'm the Master, they _can_ do it. I'm not sure Sirius thought of that. Dumbledore's my trustee and the executor of the Will; he had to officially announce me as the Heir. Moody's my guardian, so he has some say. Snape isn't either one, but he was working with my guardian. Anyway, the first point is that we don't have to listen to either her screeching or Kreacher's insults ever again, and the second is that the house will be a lot tidier."

"And what about the rest of the heads on the wall?" asked Hermione.

"I told Dobby and Winky to take them down, and do with them—and Kreacher—whatever is proper for house-elves," Harry replied. "I'll let them manage that; I have no clue as to the proprieties. They'll take down most of the portraits, too. Anyway, they're going to fix the place up nice for the service on Thursday, and Mad-Eye's going to move in. Afterwards, we can use that as a place to practice as well as here. Since it's Unplottable and warded as it is, it should be safe."

"And this took all afternoon?" Hermione asked.

"Well, we also sent Buckbeak out," Harry said. He told them how it had been done, and added, "I just couldn't see him being happy cooped up in a bedroom. Where would he be able to fly, in Muggle London? Now that Malfoy and Macnair are in Azkaban, I can't see the Ministry bothering with one hippogriff." The others agreed.

"Also," Harry added, "I gave Dobby and Winky very detailed instructions on how to handle keeping the Order's secrets as well as mine. Anything that happens in that house is under my Family secrets, anyway, which they are bound to keep; but we added a layer of protection. There is now a new Family: the Phoenix Family, with Dumbledore as the Head of Family. All the Order members, including you lot, are members of that Family. Anyone who has the Mark is automatically kept out, except with Dumbledore's permission, so we don't have to worry about the Malfoys or Lestranges. Professor Snape is the only one of that sort allowed there."

"Why _did_ you have Snape there?" asked Fred quietly.

"Partly as a witness," Harry replied calmly. "He's a Dark Pureblood, after all; I had him talk to Madam Black first. He really told her off about how both her sons were actually victims of the Dark Lord. I also wanted to be sure that Dobby and Winky knew that he's allowed in, despite…what he is. Anyway, it's just as well he was there; I'm not sure that any one person could have done for her, but two did." _And all the rest of what happened today is too private, and they don't need to know. Some things are better left alone._

Harry decided it was time to get the focus off him. "So, how'd it go for the rest of you lot?" he asked. The rest of dinner, and a fair amount of time afterwards, was spent by the other teens bringing him up-to-date on their progress.

Back in the Common Room, Ron gave Harry back the Marauders' Map.

"Thanks, mate," said Ron, with a grin. "That proved to be a _real_ eye-opener for Professor Flitwick—that on top of your dad and them becoming Animagi right under the Professors' noses."

Harry managed a smile, as he tucked the Map into a robe pocket and settled into his favorite armchair. "How much did he see that he didn't know about?"

"A lot," Ron replied. He sat down on a couch; Hermione and Ginny flanked him. "He also told us something else: that those weren't the only secret exits. There's at least one in the dungeons that Professor Snape uses for discreet exits. However, as Ginny pointed out, it's likely Riddle knows of them too."

"We really hated to tell him about the one to Honeyduke's," George added, "but we think that under the circumstances the Marauders would have approved." He and his twin were on the other couch; Neville was in the other armchair with Luna at his feet on a cushion.

Harry nodded. "As Professor Dumbledore said earlier: these aren't usual times, and the usual things won't help any more," he said quietly. "I'd rather sacrifice the secrets of the Map than endanger Hogwarts. Too many lives are at stake."

"The Professors are certainly being generous with us," said Hermione thoughtfully. "Is that part of it, that they're willing to accept our help?"

"We've proven ourselves," Ginny replied. "And they know that we're targets. I don't know about some of the others, but Professor Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall aren't willing to just abandon us. They've also learned the hard way that if they don't tell us things, we'll find out anyway. So long as we keep proving our worth, they'll let us have what we need to help them."

"They need us," Ron added. "They can't do everything they seem to want to do without help. Having underage help that they can trust is better than hiring helpers that maybe they can't."

"But what started them on this?" asked Hermione. "They seem to be…oh, I don't know…rather intense about things. I mean, I agree with everything Professor Dumbledore told us the night of our induction; I just don't see _why_ they've been spurred into action like this. It's almost as if they have a deadline or something. And they _never_ have summer classes."

"Well," Neville put in, "most of they want to do has to be discreetly done, so it has to be done before term starts. Some of it will likely be done before the Potions class starts. And I'd dearly love to find out who thought _that_ up. Snape normally hates to be in front of a class any more than he must."

"I think it was the Headmaster," Ron replied. "From what he said to us, there were only nine students who got an O on their Potions OWL; you were one of them, Hermione. That wasn't enough for a Sixth-Year NEWT class, and letting in all the ones who got an E and wanted Potions would have made for two classes as usual, when they only want one at that level. I think it's to help weed out the ones they really _don't_ want, like Malfoy's pet bookends."

"But that means they might be in the summer class," Neville said, "which is even more of a reason to get some things done before then."

Harry decided it was time to give them some solid data. "Look at it this way: we put eleven Inner Circle Death Eaters into Azkaban," he began. "Sooner or later, Riddle will break them out. Even Snape agrees with that."

"He does," confirmed Fred. "He said so at the last Order meeting."

"And in the meantime, the Dark Bastard is stuck with Bellatrix, Goyle, Pettigrew and Snape for anything major," George continued. "Frankly, of that whole lot, Snape's the brightest."

"No lie," Harry agreed. "Well, Bellatrix is probably as bright, but she's half insane. So—when they _do_ get out—what's Riddle going to be after? Us. And later, he'll want Hogwarts. I'm here, and Dumbledore's here, and if he ever took over here it would be a major loss for the Light _and_ a major problem getting him back out again. I don't think Hogwarts is just a school; it's a major magical center, and something of a fortress besides. So, the Professors have to do all in their power to secure this place. Wards aren't enough; people will be the weak point. There aren't enough of the Professors to mount a proper defense of this castle, if Riddle ever got serious about trying to take it, or even got serious about infiltration. Even I can see that, and I'm no strategist."

"Well, if you ever bothered to actually _read Hogwarts: A History_, you'd find out some of this," Hermione chided.

"Maybe so—but remember, there seems to be a fair bit that the book _doesn't_ cover," Harry reminded her. "Remember the Chamber of Secrets? I have a funny feeling that there's more than that hidden here. I mean, Hogwarts has been here, what, a thousand years? That's plenty of time for things to be hidden and forgotten.

"Anyway: the Professors have from now until the Inner Circle's broken out to bolster the defenses and boost our training. They can't afford to all go home for the summer and leave the school empty, as they usually do. The ones who normally stay are the ones like Filch and Hagrid, the ones least able to put up a fight. _That's_ the immediate deadline they're under: to make Hogwarts—and us—as safe as possible before the Inner Circle is freed."

A silence fell over the room, broken by Hermione.

"There are still some things I don't get," she said. "All right—we six are in danger because of the Ministry. That doesn't explain the twins. I can understand NEWT revision to actually take them."

"Ah—the Headmaster is granting us lab space for research, for things for the Order," Fred replied. "This way, we don't compromise the shop."

"We won't be full-time here," George put in. "But we will be commuting back and forth as needed. In case you didn't know, the shop is an Order outpost in Diagon Alley; our clerks and we hear everything that goes on out there. We also have a direct Floo to Headquarters, the Burrow and here: the only ones there. Dumbledore set that up in case of emergencies."

"And now that you lot are Auxiliary members, you'll have access to the safe routes," Fred finished.

Hermione nodded. "All of that makes sense," she agreed. She turned to Harry. "And I think I can understand why they took you out of Privet Drive. But why are they being so accommodating, so fast?"

Ron added in what had been bothering him all week. "And Harry—you never _did_ tell us what you meant, the night of the induction, about knowing what you alone had to do, and the 'prior engagement that takes priority over everything else in your life'. You _promised_ to tell us about it, when you weren't as tired, and when we were all here."

"I agree, Harry," said Ginny. "We've gone on enough about how the adults don't tell us anything; we can't afford to do it to each other. If we're involved, we have to be informed."

"Right," Ron agreed; then he continued. "From what you've said, and what Dumbledore said at the induction, the Auxiliary was your idea in the first place, so that we could all be on the same page as the regular Order. What did you do to Dumbledore to convince him? He's never wanted to tell us anything before. Was it the letter you wrote?"

_I guess I'm caught_, thought Harry_. It was going to happen sooner or later. But when did _Ron_ start being perceptive about things? This is the second time this week. I thought that was _Hermione's_ job._

Aloud, he said, "All right, you lot, I guess I've got to talk. I still can't tell everything, but you will need to know another important fact or three for your own good. Now that you're in the Order, sort of, you can know more." He waved a hand. "Get comfortable, you lot; I only want to tell this once."

When everyone had settled back into the chairs and couches, Harry began. "You guys know about that prophecy that was broken. Well, if you'll remember, it was about both Tom and me. That night, after we came back here, I found out what it did say, from the one who heard it in the first place: Professor Dumbledore."

"Should you tell it to us?" asked Hermione.

Harry shook his head. "I won't tell you all of it. But Tom knows the first part of it anyway, and I think the Order does too; some of it is what you need to know to answer your questions. The other part is what he was so mad to get that he spent months trying to force-feed me enough info to get me curious enough to do just what did do: go to the Ministry and take it. As Malfoy said, _only_ the ones it's made about can touch it, and Tom wasn't about to come down where he could be seen—not when half his strategy this year was based on Fudge being in denial."

He managed a bitter smile. "And was Tom ever ticked off that it broke, too; he blamed his faithful Death Eaters for letting me beat them yet again. I hear he _really_ took it out on Bellatrix."

Ginny interrupted. "Harry, you're calling him 'Tom', just as I do," she pointed out.

"Well, that's one of the resolutions I made this year, and I put that in my letters to Snape and Dumbledore," Harry replied. "I am _not_ going to use any of the silly nicknames for Tom Riddle any more, including his own. If people are so scared of his own chosen name that they can't use it, then they can call him by his real name; that doesn't seem to scare people, and is much easier than the usual terms. And it does irritate him."

The smile disappeared. "Anyway, the first part, what Tom and the Order both know, is this: 'The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord' is a Wizard child born at the end of the seventh month—July—the year after it was made, to parents who had defied Tom three times. That's only two people: me, and Neville."

Neville's eyes widened. "But why is it you and not me, then?" he asked. "My birthday's the day before yours."

"Because thanks to Wormtail, Tom came for me first," Harry replied. "If he'd gone for you first, maybe _you'd_ be the 'Boy-Who-Lived'. But I'm the one he came after first, and thanks to Mum's sacrifice, he was beaten. Not destroyed, but beaten. The thing is, now he's back. He keeps coming after me to finish the job, so he knows something. I'm not going to tell it all, but this much I have to say: in the end, it's going to be down to him and me. One day, we'll meet, and only one can walk away. Dumbledore can't finish him, although right now he's the only one who can give him a decent fight; you should have seen them in the Atrium. Neither can the Order, nor the Ministry, nor all the Aurors there are: just yours truly."

Harry looked around to the others. "So, you see, now that I know what I have to do, I'm going to train for it—as fast and as hard as I can, so that fewer people have to die because of him. _Nothing_ else matters: not Quidditch, not schoolwork—although I'll be studying a lot harder in my core classes—not a social life. Problem is, he's not alone: he has his Death Eaters. Besides the danger you're already in on your own merits, by being members of families who fight against him, you're in danger just by being close to me. You've also made it very clear that you won't leave me. I realized the hard way I can't protect you all, not by myself; and the Order can't really spare the people to guard all of you. That's why I thought of the Auxiliary Order, kinda like an extension of the DA. I may be good enough to deal with _Tom_ someday, but I'll never be able to take him _and_ his Inner Circle at the same time. If you won't stay out of the fight, then you have to be good enough to hold your own; I _can't_ do it all."

Ginny looked up and met Harry's eyes. "Let me get this clear: it's you and Tom, and one of you will kill the other. Right?"

"Right," affirmed Harry glumly. "One day, either I'll be dead, or I'll have blood on my hands. Or both." He looked around the group again. "Can you live with that, being friends with someone who will either be the number-one victim of the Dark Lord, or who will have to murder him?"

"It _won't_ be murder," Neville said softly, but firmly. Everyone now turned to face him. "We've already established that this is _wartime_. In a war, if you want to survive, let alone win, you kill or capture the enemy. He can't be captured, so he has to be killed. It's obvious that you've chosen to kill him rather than have him kill you, _because_ there isn't anyone else who can. I can live with that; I'd rather be friends with the one who kills He-Who—_Tom Riddle—" _Neville forced out the name, "—than to live or die in a world where he rules."

Neville now turned to the group as Harry had. "If any of the rest of you disagrees, say so now," he continued, in the same tone. "Harry will need all the help he can get, and we're the ones to give it to him. Riddle has cost me almost as much as he has Harry; I don't want to see the rest of my friends and family go the same way. The _only_ way we can stop him is to fight back, and the only way we can win is together. Some of us are going to get hurt, like we did at the Ministry. Some of us may die. But I'll die happy if it gets Harry his victory. That's what I swore to Sunday night, and I meant every word."

The twins stared at Neville for a moment; they had never heard him so forceful. But it was only a moment before Fred spoke up.

"We're in this, too," he said. "Our whole family, bar Percy-the-prat, is now in on this."

"That's why Mum goes spare every time she hears of us or you involved," George continued.

"Two of her brothers were in the Order during the First War, and were killed—Gideon and Fabian Prewett. They went down fighting and took some Death Eaters with them. The one who did for them is named Antonin Dolohov."

At that, the younger students reacted. "That's the bastard who took down Hermione," Harry growled. "He was already in Azkaban for your uncles. Sirius and I took _him_ down; pity he survived it. The next time, we had better be sure he doesn't."

Harry took a breath. "And that brings me to the next point I want to make. You now know that _I _have to kill someone. As Neville said, this is war; some of us are going to get hurt and some may die. But are _you_ willing to kill if need be? Are you willing to take someone down, not knowing if he'll live afterwards? Or she? There are a lot of ways to kill without using Unforgivables; I have to study those so I can win my battle. It won't be pretty, and it's likely to be painful and messy."

Hermione spoke up first. "I think that's something we can't really know until it happens," she said slowly. "We might be willing now, or not; but whether we _can_ when the time comes—well, we can't exactly test it, can we?"

"I can," Neville said, in the same soft but firm tone as earlier. "The Lestranges have to die, all three of them; and if the Ministry won't do it, the Order and we have to."

Fred eyed the younger boy. "Neville, not that I'm complaining—but when did you get so hard?" he asked. "This isn't like you at all."

"When did I get so hard? At the Ministry," Neville replied tightly. "Being held helpless so that someone else can _Crucio_ you tends to skew your outlook just a bit, the more so when you know she's the one who did for your parents. Seeing your friends cut down by ruthless killers does it too. Hearing Lucius Malfoy order them to kill all of us except Harry, and him too when they got the Prophecy—that also helped decide me. That's why I joined the Order. I _won't_ stand by, I _won't_ be protected, and I'll do anything I have to do so that Harry can win. That includes taking abuse from Snape, training as hard as I can, and standing up to Gran if she objects. She's in the Order now, too, so I don't think she'll be a problem as long as she thinks we're just doing research and training. But she's no fighter; she'll need to be protected. But whatever Harry needs to get to where he's going: I'm there. It's them or us, as far as I'm concerned."

"And if you think this _isn't_ like Neville: I remember in our first year, the boy who tried to stop us—one against three—from going after the Sorcerer's Stone so that we wouldn't get into trouble," Hermione said. She turned to Neville and smiled. "He was Sorted into Gryffindor for a reason, Fred. Now that he's got a wand that he can actually use decently instead of a hand-me-down, I think he'll do great." Neville smiled back, and flushed just a little.

"Harry has to live long enough to get to him and do for him," Ron said darkly. "Far as I'm concerned, anyone in the way is fair game for the rest of us. If they die, they die; they chose to follow a murdering bastard who isn't even what he calls superior. From what Harry's said, he isn't even human any more—so where does he get off telling people they should bow to him?"

"Because he's made the Death Eaters into slaves, just as much as bound house-elves are slaves," Harry replied. "Once they take the Mark, they are bound to him for life. Snape told Madam Black just what _did_ happen to Regulus Black: he tried to get out, and he was caught and turned over to the newer Death Eaters for practice in cursing. He didn't survive it."

"That makes him a slave, too, doesn't it?" asked Ginny. "Snape, I mean."

"Yes, it does," Harry replied. "And he knows it; he also knows what the price is if he's ever discovered as a spy. He told me, indirectly; in fact, he warned me not to learn to care about him, because one day the summons he gets will be the last one."

"And given what Riddle puts _you_ through, you'll have a front-row seat," Ron gloomed. "I don't envy you one bit, not half I don't."

Harry shook his head. "_I_ may have to see it; _he's_ the one who'll have to suffer it." He sighed. "Look—the man is everything Slytherin, has the temperament of a dragon with a toothache, and takes it out on everyone else around him: but I've come to realize he's one of the _bravest_ people in the whole Order. I've met Riddle, what, five times? Snape meets with him on a regular basis, and feeds him lies and half-truths. He really _is_ the superb Occlumens everyone says he is; if he weren't, he'd've been messily dead long ago, instead of just suffering regular bouts of the Cruciatus when Riddle's in a temper."

The room fell silent, as those present digested this datum. Finally, Hermione spoke up.

"Well, it seems that we need to discover some way to destroy him—Riddle, I mean, not Snape," she said. "I don't think he's immortal yet, but somehow I don't think the Killing Curse will work either."

"Whyever not?" asked Fred. "Apart from the fact Harry can't cast one yet, I mean."

"Because it didn't work on Harry," Hermione replied. "Riddle died—or whatever—the first time from a bounced Killing Curse. It blew him out of his body, but what was left was coherent enough to survive. I don't recall if there was a body found or not. What has to be done is to destroy _all _of him: body and spirit alike. I _think_ that others may be able do him harm, like Dumbledore; Harry just has to be the one to finish him."

"Maybe so," Harry allowed, "but anyone who tries will likely end up dead. I'd like to see us win this war without our side getting completely slaughtered: if that happens, then the Fudges and the Umbridges in the Ministry will be the only ones left alive. I don't want that, any more than I want Riddle to win. We need plans, people; we need ideas; and we need to integrate what we do with what the rest of the Order does so that when we do come of age, we'll be slotted right in." He turned to Hermione. "In fact, that's what I want you for: I want a counter to that revival ritual. I know Snap didn't find any, but there might be something in the Black Library."

"Considering what we already know about Minister Fudge, we can expect him to backstab us as soon as Riddle's finished," Luna put in softly. "He'll hold back his Heliopaths until he sees us win, then wipe us out."

Hermione forced herself not to snap back a cutting comment about Luna's belief in strange creatures, but it was Harry who spoke.

"Actually, Luna is right," he said, surprising the others. "Fudge will go along with us as long as we're useful: then he'll figure out some way either to take the credit, or blame us. And this, folks, is why Professor Dumbledore also has to survive the war. He's the only one with enough clout to settle the Ministry if we win. I do know he's making plans allowing for whether he does or doesn't survive a victory, and he's doing all he can to get Ministry allies. But he's the only one with the power, prestige and skill to play the politics _and_ who is strong enough to be respected. I may have the power someday, and the prestige if I win and survive: but he's got over a century of experience in dealing with Ministers and other officials. That kind of skill you don't get overnight—especially with the upbringing I've had. He _does_ have it—and it scares me that he also plans to go back into training and fight in the front lines himself. He's not immortal. And I intend to take that Wizarding Culture class this term; there is so much I don't know about the world I'm supposed to defend."

"Dad can help you there," Ginny said. "After all, he's got years of being in the Ministry. He can teach you at least the basics." The other Weasleys nodded.

"All right--then we're all agreed: Harry has to do for the Dark Bastard, and we have to make sure he can. Right?" Fred summed up.

"Right," chorused the others, a little raggedly.

"And afterwards, we have to watch our backs, to protect Harry, ourselves, and our allies from however many of our own side turn on us. Right?" This was from George.

"Right," the others agreed, not so raggedly this time.

"And we're in this _together_," Fred came back. "_All_ of us, not just Harry. We've got just as much to lose as he does." He turned and stared at Harry. "That means you work _with_ us, little adopted brother: no pushing us away, no needless secrets, and no blaming yourself when someone gets hurt unless you personally aim the wand. _Right_?" He gave Harry his best imitation of Molly Weasley's glare.

The silence hung for a long minute, as Harry tried to absorb the sudden perceptiveness of one of the prankster twins. _First Ron, now the twins, _he thought_. When did _they_ grow up? Oh well…I guess I'm outnumbered,_ he realized, as he noticed that all of them were staring at him and waiting for his reply. "Right," he said, a little shakily.

"And if there's anyone who disagrees, speak now," George finished. No one did.

"Good. Now that we're agreed, let's get to bed," Hermione said practically. "Tomorrow comes early if we want to get everything done that we have to do."

II: Meanwhile, Back At the Ministry…

(Tuesday, 16 July 1996, Ministry of Magic)

"Mr. Minister, Marcus Julius Montague is here for his appointment," Percy Weasley told Minister of Magic Cornelius Fudge that Tuesday afternoon.

"Ah yes—do show him in," replied the Minister for Magic, Cornelius Fudge. "Perhaps he can explain why the Black estate has a problem."

The Wizarding solicitor entered the Minister's office, and upon invitation took his seat. "You asked to see me, Mr. Minister," he said politely.

"Ah yes—this is a matter I seem to be having difficulty with," Fudge replied. "It's in regard to the Black Estate. I cannot get a straight answer from the Goblins, as I am not an 'interested party', and none of my usual sources are helping. I personally declared Sirius Black deceased over three weeks ago, since my Aurors saw him fall through the Death Veil, and cleared the estate for probate. Since the man was either in Azkaban or on the run for the last fifteen years, then the next heir _should_ be Narcissa Black Malfoy. One of her sisters was disinherited for an unacceptable marriage, and one is regrettably a wanted Death Eater, and the alleged cause of Mr. Black's demise; the next nearest living relations are descendants of two Squib aunts of his who were also disinherited, and who emigrated to the United States. You are Mrs. Malfoy's solicitor; I would like you to tell your client that I am doing all I can from my end to help her free up her rightful assets, but I am getting nowhere. Is there something I should know?"

"Yes, there is, a good deal as a matter of fact," Mr. Montague said. He opened his briefcase and took out a notebook. "I was present on Mrs. Malfoy's behalf at the reading of the Will of Sirius Black, which took place last week on the 10th at Gringotts. He made this Will on 15 May of this year, that is to say about two months ago; it was filed with Gringotts to the satisfaction of the Goblins."

"What do you mean, he had a_ Will_?" demanded Fudge. "The man was on the run or in prison; how could he make one? And two _months_ ago, you say?"

"I do not know, as I was not his solicitor," replied Montague, "but you may recall that the Goblins tend to ignore the legal status of people in our world, so long as they themselves are not cheated. As I said, I was present at the reading. Mr. Black, regrettably, has specifically disinherited Mrs. Malfoy, Master Draco Malfoy, and Bellatrix Black Lestrange, and did so in the first part of the Will. All Mrs. Malfoy and Mrs. Lestrange get of the Black assets are the dower accounts they received at their marriages, as those cannot be revoked. Mrs. Tonks did not get one, apparently. At this point in the reading, I was evicted from the room, on the grounds that my clients had no further interest in the matters. I have filed an appeal for information only on behalf of the Malfoys; all I was able to find out were the Family and line heirs, not any amounts, listings or residual bequests."

"What do you mean, only the Family and line heirs?"

"Just that; the only heirs I was able to discover were those _of_ the Black Family, or related to them, and the new Black heir to the titles and estates. This, I suppose, was due to Mrs. Malfoy's Family interest, as her minor son Draco is the only living male blood heir in the line. However, Mr. Black revoked the disinheriting of Andromeda Black Tonks; she has one daughter and no sons. The descendants of the Squib aunts were not listed; those were covered in the Will of the late Alphard Black, their brother."

Fudge's eyes opened wide. "So, you're saying that Andromeda Tonks is now the heir to the Black line?"

Montague shook his head. "In part. She apparently gets part of the money, and some of the Black chattels. Her daughter Nymphadora is the contingency Heir, as the Black Heir is a minor. Mr. Black never married, and had no blood offspring, legitimate or otherwise, nor did his late younger brother Regulus, who died in 1980; he was the last male Black. The new Heir to the Lordship of the Most Noble and Ancient House of Black is Mr. Black's Godson, Harry Potter."

Fudge paled, and stared at the solicitor. "How is that _possible_? That boy has Muggles for guardians; Black was the only Wizarding guardian he had. He cannot possibly manage an estate, let alone a Wizarding estate the size of the Black holdings!"

"That _was_ the case," Montague affirmed. "However, guardianship is not the same as holding an estate in trust for a minor. Mr. Black was prudent enough to allow for his demise during Mr. Potter's minority, as in fact has happened. In this case, the trustees are Albus Dumbledore and one Remus Lupin. Should Mr. Potter die during his minority, the successor heir is Nymphadora Tonks. Should both she and her mother also die, the next heir is Arthur Weasley, followed by his children in order; I believe that he is a second or third cousin, two or three times removed, to Mr. Black. He, his wife, and all of the children in fact have shared in the benefits, to what percentage I do not know. Should all of them perish, the title will be declared extinct, and Remus Lupin will inherit the benefits and seat rights only, as he legally may not have children owing to his condition. However, Mr. Black added that Mr. Lupin may fully inherit if either of two conditions obtain: he is cured of Lycanthropy, or the laws involving lycanthropes are changed."

_Dumbledore again_, fumed Fudge to himself. _He now has control over one of the oldest and richest estates in the entire Wizarding World! That boy won't have the least clue on what to do with it, and neither he nor Dumbledore will give so much as a Knut to help the Malfoys!_ Something Montague had said caught his attention. "What do you mean, that _was_ the case? I have not heard of anything happening to the boy's Muggle Aunt and Uncle, who were his legal guardians last I heard. He does not reach majority until about this time next year."

"I wondered about that myself," Montague replied. "There was apparently an affirmation of the Wills of the late James and Lily Potter filed with the Black Will; Sirius Black was the only trustee for them, and obviously had been unable to manage it. The Dursleys were specifically disinherited by Lily Potter, unless they or their son, also a Muggle, should produce a Magical child, in which case a trust fund would be set up for the benefit of that child, to be run by the Potter heir. When I looked further into this in the Families office, I found out that there are also several new filings for Mr. Potter; he has new guardians. The Muggle Dursleys have both signed a waiver of guardianship in favor of Albus Dumbledore; this was dated on the 7th of this month, that is to say a bit over a week ago. A further filing indicates that according to the Will of Mr. Black, a Mr. Remus Lupin is the successor Godfather and Wizarding Guardian. As he is a registered Werewolf, he must have a co-guardian who is a non-lycanthrope. The Will also gives Mr. Dumbledore _custody_ of the co-guardianship, not the guardianship itself, although he may choose to exercise it. In accordance with the Will, and further empowered by the waiver, he has made an assignment of the co-guardian position, in favor of a Mr. Alastor Moody."

"_Mad-Eye Moody_? Why _him_? And who inherits the Potter estate, after Harry Potter?"

Montague consulted his notebook. "The first you will have to inquire of Mr. Dumbledore; I do not know Mr. Moody personally, but he _was_ present at the reading, 'to provide security'; I understand that he is a retired Auror. If Mr. Potter dies intestate, and unmarried with no children, then his heirs are whoever are his closest living relatives _other_ than the Dursleys. By our laws, that would be any living Potter connections first for the Potter bloodline, and then any other Evans connections, which I assume would be more Muggles. None of either have been mentioned. If he makes a Will, then it will be to whomever he so chooses. He is empowered to the rights of an adult testator, should he make his Will and die during his minority. Dumbledore and Lupin, again, are his trustees."

"And if _they_ die during his minority?" Fudge inquired. "After all, Dumbledore _is_ quite old, even for a Wizard, and Werewolves don't tend to survive as long as normal folks."

Montague took a deep breath, and referred to his notebook again. "Mr. Black was _quite_ thorough in this issue for both the Black and the Potter estates; if more of _my_ clients were, I would have fewer headaches. For the Black estate, the successor trustees are Andromeda Black Tonks and Minerva McGonagall. For the Potter estate, and for the cash portion of the Black estate that Mr. Potter inherits, they are Ms. McGonagall and Arthur Weasley. Should they both perish, then it will be William Weasley and Andromeda Tonks. All these trusteeships expire upon Mr. Potter's 17th birthday, on 31 July of next year, although Mr. Lupin's appointment as Godfather does not."

"Were they present?"

"Yes, all those I have mentioned, and more besides." The solicitor went on to name all those present.

"And what is missing from all this?" asked Fudge.

"_Nowhere_ was an asset list filed. Once Mr. Potter claims _any_ of the estate as Lord Black, he is Magically empowered to the title and lands, in which case Mr. Black's name will disappear and Mr. Potter's name will appear on relevant documents and the Title Index. No one else may enter or have any dealings there without his leave, or that of his trustees and guardians. That has in fact happened, but there is no listing on _where_ it happened, only that it happened yesterday afternoon. Mr. Black's Will is now a binding Magical Contract: Mr. Potter _is_ Lord Black. The houses, lands, house-elves, any indentured tenants, businesses and income are all his to do with as he pleases within the allowances of the Will, and within the boundaries of the estate lands, subject only to the advice and consent of his trustees and his guardians, who are in turn subject only to the laws regarding minors. The Blacks tended to be secretive about many of their holdings; some of the lands are under secrecy wards and others are under Fidelius charms. We may assume that whatever Antares Black died holding was either inherited by Sirius or by Altair Black, as Alphard predeceased him; since Altair only had daughters, and Alphard had no living children, then Sirius inherited the title and the Black benefits, such as the Wizengamot seat. Now that Mr. Potter is Lord Black, then _his_ current heir for that title is Nymphadora Tonks, a granddaughter of Altair, until he reaches his majority next year."

Fudge sat there for a few moments, thinking. Finally, he realized that the next Heir to the Black estate was the Metamorphmagus Auror who was injured in the Ministry fracas, then Arthur Weasley, who while a pureblood was lamentably supportive of Muggles and unsupportive of Fudge. If the deceased Blacks ever knew _that_, they would all come back from the dead and scream at someone! He also realized that _all_ of the heirs thus far mentioned were allies of Dumbledore's, as Black apparently had been, and there was _no_ way that he would get anything out of the estate from Narcissa Malfoy on behalf of Lucius—who was unfortunately being held without bail in Azkaban until his trial. His plan to accelerate Narcissa's inheritance by exonerating Black, declaring him officially dead, and allowing the probate of his estate, had badly backfired, leaving it in the hands of those he least wished to have it: Dumbledore and his allies. On the other hand, he allowed, the fact that Bellatrix Lestrange had been disinherited as well kept the assets away from He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named; Bellatrix was by all accounts insane _and_ one of the Dark Lord's most devoted followers. It was too bad that she had not been caught with the others.

"Is there any way we can break the Will? Say, if we could prove that Black was not competent?" asked Fudge.

"I looked into that; the man did spend twelve years in Azkaban after all," Montague replied. "Unfortunately, as I said, he made and filed the Will with the Gringotts Goblins; they have their own means of detecting whether a testator is sane and/or competent. They accepted it and filed it, so apparently Black was competent to make the Will by their rules. The estate manager told me that if an appeal is filed to overturn it, then my clients will receive one Knut each in cash and pay the expenses, and Mrs. Lestrange will receive nothing. Mr. Black could not know that she would cause his demise, but the Goblins do know that."

"Who is the estate manager?"

"Racknar; he is one of their senior managers, and I believe he was also the estate manager for the estates of Antares, Alphard and Altair Black. His reputation is unimpeachable."

Fudge thought some more, then he had an idea, and summoned Percy Weasley. When the latter arrived in his office, Fudge went straight to the point.

"Mr. Weasley, have you had any correspondence from Gringotts, regarding the estate of the late Sirius Black?" the Minister asked.

"Yes, I have, Mr. Fudge, and I must admit I was shocked," Percy replied. "I had _no_ idea that he was anywhere near my family, let alone close enough to leave them anything in his Will. Father apparently is a distant relation of the Blacks, and I think Mother is too, by marriage."

"What did you get?" asked Montague.

Percy tried not to frown. "Sir, may I ask why you are interested?" he asked politely.

"You may," Montague replied. "I am a solicitor; my clients in this matter are Narcissa Black Malfoy and Draco Malfoy. Mrs. Malfoy is a first cousin of the late Mr. Black, and would have inherited a considerable portion of his estate had he died intestate, as was supposed. He, however, made a Will, dated two months ago, specifically disinheriting her and her sister Bellatrix Lestrange, and revoking the disinheriting of their other sister Andromeda. However, there was no asset list filed, and we are trying to determine the holdings. Can you enlighten us any?"

"I'm not sure I can," Percy admitted. "My share is reserved in trust. I apparently get one-fifth of one-tenth of the gold in the Black vault; I assume the other four-fifths of that tenth are for my four adult brothers. Father will have gotten something, if the rest of us did. The inheritance is conditional, and that has to do with Weasley family matters; but an exact amount was not stated, so I have no idea of the totals." Curiosity got the better of him. "Who is the Black Heir? Andromeda Tonks? I would have heard if it was Father."

"No," replied Montague. "The Black Heir to the titles and estates is his Godson, Harry Potter. During his minority, his trustees are Albus Dumbledore and Remus Lupin. Should he die before his birthday in July of next year, Andromeda's daughter Nymphadora is the Heir, then your father."

Percy was shocked. "That _Auror_? And _Father_? What was that man _thinking_?"

"Actually, he made a quite sensible Will, legally speaking," Montague replied. "He disinherited a known Death Eater, allowed for the fact that he had no children of his own, and provided contingency heirs and trustees. I never met the man, but given what I do know of the heirs and trustees, he apparently was rewarding his friends and trying to ensure that none of the Black assets went anywhere near He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. All the known heirs and trustees are either non-Death Eater blood kin, as is Miss Tonks, or allies of Albus Dumbledore; apparently the allegation that Black was a Death Eater was totally spurious, and the allegation that Peter Pettigrew _is_ one and is currently alive, has some merit."

Percy froze: he knew who Pettigrew allegedly had been—an Animagus living with him and his family as a rat named Scabbers—and he did not want to investigate _that_ line any further. Instead, he said, "I am sorry that I cannot enlighten you further, but you know as much as I do about it now, if not more."

"There is one other item," Montague offered. "Should your father inherit under those conditions, his next heirs are you and your brothers, in order of age. I believe that you are the third son? Should your father also pass, along with your elder brothers, then _you _would become Lord Black."

Percy was stunned. "There are no conditions?" he asked.

"The phrase was 'Arthur Weasley, and after him his descendants in legal order'," Montague replied. "Have your elder brothers any children?"

"Not so far," Percy said. "But I think it's highly unlikely that Harry should die along with this Auror and my Dad and Bill and Charlie, all within the next year."

"But aren't all of them allies of Dumbledore?" asked Montague. "That puts them into the line of fire, now that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and the Death Eaters are active again. Mr. Potter is known to be an especial target of the Dark Lord."

"And the rest of your family are all friends of Harry Potter," Fudge added. "If war is starting again, as Dumbledore insists, then your family may well lose some members. Your youngest brother and your sister were among the group of students in the Ministry last month; the next time they may not be so lucky."

He rose from his seat. "Think about it, Weasley," he advised. "Now is the time to decide where you stand." Percy took that for the dismissal it was, and left, with much to mull over.

After the door closed, Montague asked, "Do you know what he meant by 'Weasley Family matters'?"

"Yes, I think so," replied the Minister. "He is estranged from his family because he is more loyal to the Ministry and me than to Dumbledore and Harry Potter, as his brothers are. If Black was one of Dumbledore's friends, then he knew about that; I suspect the condition has to do with Weasley reconciling with his family."

"Can this be encouraged, do you think?" asked Montague. "If I recall, the Weasleys are known for two things: honesty and poverty. This Percy Weasley would seem to be the type to be grateful if you could smooth the way to a fair bit of gold for him."

Fudge thought about that for a few moments. "Maybe," he allowed. "But that's not something to push him on; let him think it up himself. And you are right about what can happen during wartime. If we cannot secure Narcissa's inheritance, then better it should go to someone deserving of better things. I think this will be a situation we watch, but do not act on for a while."

"For now," agreed Montague. He stood. "I must go; I need to give this information to Mrs. Malfoy."

He and the Minister shook hands, and then he left the office.

Left alone, Fudge settled back and thought. _Some things need to grow and ripen before being acted upon,_ he decided. _Now is not the time to act. Now is the time to wait and see._


	4. Memorial

Disclaimers: Harry Potter and his world belong to J.K. Rowling and to her assorted publishers, not to me. Antonia Dumarest _is_ mine, as are the assorted Snape and Dumarest relatives, and may be used with permission; e-mail me.

Spoilers: All five HP novels.

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**MEMORIAL**

Thursday evening, 18 July 1996

I. Remembrances

The atmosphere in Number 12 Grimmauld Place was far different now. House elf magic had been extensively used, as had Wizard magic. The wallpaper was no longer peeling and moldering and the carpet was fit to walk on without tripping or kicking up clouds of dust. Best of all, to the Order members gathering in the Grand Ballroom for Sirius Black's memorial, the portrait of Madam Black was no longer berating guests from the Entrance Hall; it simply wasn't there any more. Neither were the rows of house-elf heads, nor most of the other portraits.

Seated in rows of padded chairs in the Grand Ballroom were all the members of the Order and the Auxiliary who could be spared from other duties and who knew Sirius Black at all well. A podium was up front for speakers, and a large, empty candelabrum stood on a table nearby, with a box of candles. Also on the table was an enlarged portrait of Sirius as a young man, copied from one of the pictures in Harry's album. There was also a second picture of him as Padfoot. Next to the podium was a perch for Fawkes.

Albus Dumbledore led off the gathering. For once, his robes and hat were not in his usual flamboyant colors and garish patterns; he wore subdued dark purple edged in gold. "We are gathered tonight to remember the first Order loss of this second war against Lord Voldemort," he began quietly. He bowed his head for a few silent moments, then raised it again and resumed. "Last month, Sirius Black fell in combat, stunned through the Veil of Death in the Department of Mysteries at the hands of Bellatrix Lestrange. She is the only one of the Death Eaters there who escaped the Order and the Aurors, only because of Tom Riddle's personal intervention.

"Because Sirius was seen fighting against the Death Eaters, and in fact fell in battle against one, he has finally been exonerated of having been one. Because Tom came to the Ministry in person, the Minister of Magic saw him and can no longer deny Tom's return. Because of _that_, I was able to convince the Minister that among the errors into which Tom had led him was the wrongful imprisonment _of_ Sirius Black. He now finally believes what I have been telling him for two years: that Peter Pettigrew is alive, and confessed to the betrayal of the Potters; and that it was he who committed the murders for which Sirius was blamed; also that Sirius was never a Death Eater, but that Pettigrew _was_, and is one still. A 'Wanted' poster is even now being printed showing both his human and rat forms, with the addition of a silver right hand or forepaw.

"None of that, of course, will give us back a brave, clever and energetic fighter. But all this is to show that while Sirius fell against the Death Eaters, in a mission caused by a cunningly laid trap, he did not die in vain. He was part of a rescue mission, and the subjects of the rescue were indeed saved. And had he not been with Kingsley, Tonks, Alastor, and Remus, they might have been overcome before I came, and the rescue failed; four of the student fighters had already fallen and the remaining two were badly outnumbered. Sirius and Harry took down Antonin Dolohov together, after he had badly injured Alastor.

"I remember Sirius as a bright troublemaker as a student: loyal to his friends, harsh to his perceived enemies. With two others, he became an illegal Animagus in his fifth year to stand by a werewolf friend, and hid it so well I did not know of it until two years ago. He turned his back on the Dark orientation of his family, and stood steadfastly on the side of the Light all his life. Estranged from nearly all his blood kin, he found brothers among his friends. When they left school, his friends James Potter and Lily Evans married and named Sirius the Godfather for their only son, Harry. All three were members of the Order in the First War.

"After the deaths of the elder Potters, Harry became Sirius' primary loyalty; for Harry's sake he escaped from Azkaban and returned to Hogwarts when he found out about Peter's survival. He and Remus Lupin unmasked Peter's Animagus form, upon which Peter confessed to his betrayal. When Harry brought back the news of the revival of Lord Voldemort after the Tri-Wizard Tournament, Sirius and Remus Lupin were instrumental in recalling the Order of the Phoenix. And even in death, he was able to do us one last service: in his Will, he left this house to his Godson, with the intention that the Order continue to use it for our Headquarters, and that it not fall into the hands of his Death Eater relatives. Harry Potter is now Lord Black and Master of this House, and he has welcomed the Order to remain."

The Headmaster turned to the table, picked up a candle and lit it with a whispered word. "May my memory of a cherished friend light your way to the Otherworld, and may the fire warm your soul. You are not forgotten." He placed the candle in one of the sockets in the candelabrum, bowed and sat down.

Nymphadora Tonks was next. "My Mum and I are about the only blood kin Sirius would admit to, except his late Uncle Alphard," she began. "He really hated the rest of the family, their Dark leanings, and their Pureblood bigotry. When Mum was disowned for marrying a Muggleborn Wizard, Sirius was the only one who would even speak to her afterwards. I wasn't even old enough to be in Hogwarts when he went to Azkaban, but I never believed that he'd turn around so completely against what he'd been all his life and betray one of his brothers-by-choice. I'm just glad that I got to know him at least a little, this last year or so." She also picked up and lit a candle from the one already there; for a wonder, she managed to get it into the socket without tipping over the table. "I won't forget, and I won't forgive Aunt Bella; one day she'll get what she deserves. I promise this as a Black."

Remus Lupin then stood. The Moon was not long past New, so he was not quite as haggard as he might have been nearer the Full Moon. "Sirius was my much-loved friend and brother; I am the Werewolf for whom he, James and Peter became Animagi. They were my Pack, and now they are all lost to death or betrayal, excepting only our lone cub, Harry. I lost Sirius once in 1981, when I believed him guilty; now I have lost him a second time. There are no words to describe everything that he was to me, and if I told the half of what we all did together it would take all night."

He lit his candle. "I'll make this short. Run free forever, Padfoot, and greet Lily and Prongs for us." He sat down next to Harry, who was watching the entire service with a face of stone.

Surprisingly, the next one who stood was Ginny Weasley. "I got to know Sirius this last summer when we were trying to clean out this house," she said. "I saw a sad and lonely man, still haunted by Azkaban, who was frustrated that being wanted forced him to stay inside a house he hated and who was only really happy at Christmas when we could all spend it with him. But he never talked down to us students or treated us as children; he believed in us. For that, and for his loyalty to Harry and the Light, I will remember him." She too lit a candle.

Ron stood next. "I didn't start off too well with him, as Padfoot broke my leg dragging me under the Whomping Willow to the Shrieking Shack," Ron began, to some chuckles. "But I also had a hard time believing that my pet rat Scabbers was what he was really after, or that he was an Animagus. When he and Professor Lupin forced Scabbers to change in front of us, I was horrified that I'd had a supposedly dead man living with me for years, and with my brother before me, even sleeping on my pillow. I'm just sorry he escaped. But after that, when Sirius also escaped, he sent his first message to Harry with a little owl that he gave me to replace Scabbers, so I guess I didn't do badly on that deal." That brought a few more chuckles from some of the members.

"Like Ginny, I got to know Sirius mainly this last summer, and a couple of times during the year. He tried to give us good advice the few times we could talk. It was to rescue him that we went to the Ministry. And while I'm more than sorry we were wrong, and were led into a trap, I'm not sorry we went; Sirius would have never forgiven us if we'd let Harry go alone."

He lit a candle and set it in its socket. "Hope you're happier on the Other Side. We started badly, but I forgive you all of that for you standing by Harry. I won't forget you."

Their mother next stood. "Sirius and I were often at odds, because we had different ideas on how to treat Harry," Molly Weasley said. "But I will not deny that all of it was out of love for Harry, who has had so little in his life; Sirius would have done anything to make Harry happy and to take care of him. I'm still outraged at the injustice of his imprisonment, and that his name was not cleared in his lifetime. But I can hope that he's at peace now; I don't think that he ever really recovered from Azkaban."

Other members stood and briefly shared memories; one by one, the candelabrum was filling with lights. What truly surprised the entire Order, however, was when Severus Snape rose and glided to the podium. Quite a few people held their breaths, wondering what this man would say who had so hated Sirius.

"It is no secret to anyone who knew either of us that Sirius Black and I detested each other from the day we met to the day he died," he began. There was no sneering or hatred in his voice; it was even and calm, not unlike his classroom lecture voice. His face, however, was not quite the usual cold mask; a hint of some deep emotion showed, shadowing the dark eyes. "Both of us had many, many scores to settle upon each other that had never been fully reckoned at the time of his death. We brought out the worst in each other, and constantly fought with neither mercy nor consideration of each other or of anyone else around us. I will not here detail all the battles he and his friends fought with me when we were all in school.

"I will say this, however: I did not know then that Peter Pettigrew was a Death Eater and the Order's traitor; at that time, we did not all know who all the others were. But I can tell you now that Sirius Black was _not_ one, although his brother Regulus _was_ until he was executed for trying to get free.

"Nevertheless, as others have said better than I, he _was_ an excellent fighter, loyal to the Order's goal, and loyal to Albus and to his Godson. I am the one who tried to get him to stay behind when I alerted the Order to the Ministry debacle; he refused to abandon his Godson, and would no longer accept confinement when there was action to be had. Perhaps that was foolish and reckless of him, and I told him as much: but not even I will deny his courage. That he fell is no shame to him; Bellatrix Lestrange is a cunning, powerful and deadly fighter who personally defeated two more of the Order who went, both of them trained Aurors, and who was the only one of those in the Death Chamber who evaded Albus' confinement. And there are far worse ways to perish, if one must."

He took a candle and lit it. "I cannot honestly say that I will miss the man. Were he still alive, we would in all probability still be quarrelling. But I will say, as others have, that given the Order's goal he did not die for nothing. And, as I have painfully come to realize finally these last few weeks: the past is done and over with and immutable, and feuds with the dead are a waste of time and energy better spent on achieving the goals of the Order. I have already settled with James Potter through his son Harry, who has formally accepted the balancing of the Life-Debt I owed to James that was unpaid at his death."

He raised the lit candle to eye level for a moment; his voice rose a little and his tone grew more formal. "May this light send my words to the Other Side: Sirius Black, our feud is ended, and all scores between us are negated, with neither of us a victor. I here reaffirm my allegiance to my Order Oath, to support _all_ of my fellow members to attain our goal. And greet Lily for me, if you would; she was the most honorable of all of you." He installed his candle, and with a slight inclination of his head toward the lights, went back to his seat.

No one spoke. The entire Order sat stunned. Snape's presence had not been expected in the first place. That he should actually speak in the Remembrance, and not at all insultingly, was a far greater shock to everyone: except for a few, who had already heard his intentions to end the useless feuds—Dumbledore, Lupin, and Harry, who now stood up and went to the podium.

_Focus, Potter_, he sternly reminded himself. _Say your piece, sit down, let Dumbledore close, and we're done except for the snacks._ He took a deep breath and began to speak quietly.

"Sirius Black was my Godfather," Harry said. "He was the first person other than the Weasleys who offered me a real home and family love. He was willing to risk anything, even recapture, if he thought it would help me; he went to my aid when he believed me to be in danger. I believed him to be in danger on my behalf, so I went to _his_ aid; I would do it again. That all of it ended up costing him his life anyway is the cruelest part of it. I have blamed myself and almost everyone else involved for his death: but the two people most responsible are Bellatrix Lestrange and her Master. They _will_ have justice done to them; I will see it done with or without help. The house-elf Kreacher who betrayed Sirius is already dead, by his own hand and his own choice."

Holding his lit candle, he faced the candelabrum. "I'm sorry, Sirius, that I helped get you where you are; but at least maybe now you can be happy and at peace. You don't have to run, hide or starve, and no one can hurt you any more. Tell Mum and Dad 'hello' for me." He placed his candle at the top, and then sat down. Lupin put an arm around him and held him tightly.

After a moment, when no one else rose to speak, Dumbledore then rose. He stood behind the table with the candelabrum, and spread his hands wide, surrounding the candles in a gesture of benediction. Fawkes flew up onto his shoulder. When Dumbledore spoke, it was in an intonation of a ritual.

"Sirius Black, our brother in the Order, friend, brother and Godfather: you fell in honor, and not in vain; your task in this mortal world is done. The Phoenix bond is unbroken even now; you left us still loyal to your Oath, as did those of your fellow members who fell in the First War.

"May our words and our love find you on the Other Side; go in peace, and may these flames light your way and warm your soul as you join the rest of those who gave their lives for the Order. We will not forget you, and we will carry on with the mission of the Order. So say I, Albus Dumbledore, Head of the Order, in the name of the Order of the Phoenix." He bowed slightly, and brought his hands closer to the burning candles. As he did, Fawkes reached out, touched his beak to the topmost candle, and then began to sing. All the candles glowed more brightly, as from that top candle a golden thread shot down, dividing and spreading until each flame was connected. The entire network glowed brightly, and then a pillar of golden light shot from the candles up to the ceiling. As the candles glowed even more brightly, a second golden thread shot out, touching Dumbledore in the chest as he stood there. More threads came out, each one touching a member; more vanished through the walls and ceiling.

Fawkes continued to sing for a few more minutes: then he came to an ending point in his song and stopped. The golden pillar of light vanished, and with it went all of the candle flames and the network of light.

The silence that followed was profound, broken only by the flutter of Fawkes' wings as he returned to his perch. Dumbledore let his hands fall, and stood there with bowed head for a few more moments. No one was willing to break the silence, until he spoke once more, in a quieter tone.

"I thank you all for being here; this is one of the most profound Phoenix Remembrances I can recall. There is food and drink on the side tables; feel free to partake before you return home."

He made his way to one of the tables along the side walls, and picked up a plate to fill with snacks.

This seemed to break the stillness; the other members got up and straggled over to the food and drinks, and a buzz of quiet conversation arose. Several went over to where Harry and Lupin still sat. Harry wasn't sure he even wanted to get up and eat, but the Weasley twins took care of that.

"C'mon Harry, you should eat, too," Fred Weasley began as he took Harry's arm.

"Yeah—you're the host, after all," George chimed in as he took Harry's other arm. Both pulled him upright, and steered him to the food. Ron was already loading a plate; he turned and smiled at Harry.

"All right, mate?" he asked softly.

Harry closed his eyes. He _did_ feel a bit better, in fact. He opened them again and managed a tiny smile for Ron.

"All right," he agreed. "The food should be good; Dobby and Winky did most of it." He looked up at the twins. "And if you two will let go, I can actually get some of it." When they did, he picked up a plate and selected some food and a drink. The twins pulled him over to where Lupin still sat, rearranged the chairs, and got him seated and eating. Ron joined them, devouring the food with his usual gusto.

II: Conversations

Meanwhile Hermione had cornered the Headmaster. "Sir, what _was_ all that? I mean the golden threads and everything?" she asked eagerly. "It reminded me of our induction night. And is this normal for a Wizarding memorial?"

Dumbledore smiled kindly. "Come, Miss Granger, sit with me, and I shall explain it," he invited.

When the two were sitting together with filled plates, the old man spoke. "To answer your second question first, this is only partly normal," he began. "Absent a body, there is no burial or cremation to be done. I chose the Fire of Remembrance form of a memorial as one in which any or all could share, or not, as they pleased. The other part, however, is specific to the Order: the golden threads you saw were the bindings of each member, present or not, in their Oath to the Order. You may have noticed that you Auxiliary members were also linked. Fawkes does not always choose such a major participation, nor to make those bindings visible; that he did said a great deal about those present, about Sirius, and about Fawkes' approval of our plans to continue on with our task in unity."

Dumbledore took a sip from his goblet, and continued. "As Harry was told by Sir Nicholas, Sirius will have gone on, and not remained as a ghost. Given the variety of beliefs and questions we mortals have about the nature of that passage, the Fire of Remembrance service is a type of memorial that does not worry about the details, but conveys a sincere farewell to the departed regardless of personal belief. Funerals and memorials, after all, are far more for the benefit of the living than of the dead; they serve to close a chapter of life so that the next one may be begun."

"Well, I thought it was impressive," Antonia Dumarest said quietly. Neither Dumbledore nor Hermione had heard her come up. "I never met the man at all, but I'm glad I came instead of staying at the school." She sat down, with a warm smile for both the Headmaster and Hermione. "Albus, you outdid yourself again."

"My dear Tish," Dumbledore said with an equally warm smile, "most of the credit should go to Fawkes for that. I am glad that you did come; there are more people for you to meet tonight than there were at the induction."

His tone changed a little, to one more serious and earnest. "Now that I have both of you here, however, I would like to discuss something more concrete, and be more specific about the Potions project I wish done this summer."

He glanced over to where Snape had quietly sat alone with his plate and a cup of tea. When he returned his gaze to the two Witches, his eyes were now serious with no twinkle. "You are both aware of what Severus does for the Order. I need not tell you of the consequences for him if he is caught. His main concern for himself is not his death, which he has accepted as a very real probability, but that he does not betray Order secrets under duress. To that end, he carries the means of a quick release on his person, commonly known as a 'Last Friend'."

Dumbledore let that sink in for a moment, and closed his eyes. When he opened them again, there was something more than mere seriousness in them. "I am not willing to so easily sacrifice Severus; he is too valuable to me at Hogwarts. Given what the probable circumstances of his betrayal will be, what I see that he needs is a means of escaping alive to return to us. To that end, I have already discussed with him the development of a potion that will give him total pain relief and restore both near-total physical and magical strength for a _short_ time—long enough for him to activate a Portkey and escape, if he cannot Apparate. He has already started on the research, but will not have the time to do that and the summer classes and all his usual duties. Much will also depend on how long it will take to brew. I am asking you both to lend a hand; with three people doing the work we may—no, we _will_—find the solution more quickly. Everything I can give you for this project will be yours; I only wish I had the time to assist personally. The other thing I ask of both of you is that the nature of the potion be a _secret._ Only he and the three of us will know the details, until it is time to test it. Will you help?"

"Of course I will, Albus," Dumarest replied. "I can use Family resources on both sides that aren't available to just anyone, and Marcus need not be the wiser." She turned to Hermione. "That's Severus' father, dear; he doesn't much like me but I have Family rights he can't overturn. So long as we don't actually meet, he will ignore me."

"Yes, Sir," Hermione added. "I don't like him, but he doesn't deserve such a horrible death. And I think I have an idea on how he can hide it, too; after all, won't he be searched?"

Dumbledore smiled. "Tell me more, Miss Granger." The three moved closer together as Hermione detailed her idea.

Meanwhile, Ron had left where his brothers, Lupin and Harry sat, on the pretext of getting more food. He did in fact pick up more biscuits and another Butterbeer, but in reality, his mind was racing.

_Snape again,_ he thought. That's_ what's bothering me. I can't believe the man is still acting like a human being, and letting go of such a deep grudge. He_ hated _Sirius; he tried to get him killed or Kissed. Something weird is going on here. How much does Harry really know? And how much is tied up with what Harry told me about them settling their family fight—which Snape mentioned?_

He knew then he could and would talk to Harry again later; what he would have to do now, though it required a hefty dose of Gryffindor courage, was best done here on neutral ground. _I don't have time to get Hermione's help,_ thought Ron, looking over to where his other best friend was having a quiet discussion with Professor Dumarest and the Headmaster. _Tonight we're fellow Order members, and ought to be able to talk to each other without drawing wands or insulting each other. And he's more likely to continue to be polite if Professor Dumbledore is here and I don't throw the first insult—or mention Sirius. _

Ron finished his Butterbeer and his last biscuit; got up, and headed toward the Hogwarts Professor he despised the most. Professor Snape looked up as Ron approached.

Gathering all his courage, Ron spoke to the man. "Sir? A quiet word, please?" he asked politely.

Snape's eyebrows rose somewhat higher than usual; but he then nodded, and used his wand to bring over another chair. He then cast a Silencing Charm around them; Ron took the vacant chair.

"We are private now, Mr. Weasley, if that is what you were asking of me," said the Professor quietly. Ron nodded, and Snape continued. "What brings you to speak to me?"

Ron took a deep breath. "It's…what have you done to Harry?" he blurted out. _That wasn't quite how I meant to say that,_ he thought, but decided it would do. He forgot for now that it echoed what he'd asked Harry after the induction.

Snape blinked. "Be more precise, Mr. Weasley," he countered. For once, he didn't correct Ron's mode of address.

"He's changed, just since I last saw him at the station in June, and I think you did something. What did you do?" Ron managed to reply.

Snape picked up his cup, took a sip and set it down; he then leaned back and steepled his hands together. "Why do you think _I_ did something to Mr. Potter? Please elaborate," he invited, with just a hint of challenge, but none of his usual malice.

Ron took another steadying deep breath, and forced himself to look the man directly in the face. _Facts, Weasley, facts; this man is as smart as Hermione, and will tear apart anything else. And above all, keep calm!_ "Before the induction ceremony, Harry told us most of what happened at his place, and how he got here, and about the will. But he seriously glossed over what he and you were discussing in your letter, only that it was important, and that he wasn't going to be the one to say anything about it. Then he goes and says it was _you_ who chewed out those Dursley gits, and just left pieces for Professor Dumbledore to finish off, according to Professor Lupin—_and_ that you two had made up your family feud. All through the telling, he's got this really serious—" Ron struggled for a word, "—uh, hint of something hard under his words. Last, before we got dressed, he hinted that he had something to do, which took precedence over everything else in his life.

"Then, during the ceremony: first, he swears to put _everything_ else aside to get what the Order wants, including feuds; and second, you were one of the ones holding a wand on him, but you didn't answer when Professor Dumbledore asked for someone to speak against him. Besides Mum, you're one of the ones most opposed to Harry knowing anything about what the Order does or having anything to do with it. You've despised Harry for the whole five years he's been at Hogwarts, and here you missed a prime opportunity to slap him down in front of everyone he cares about for standing up and declaring his opinions, that you call arrogant, like you usually do.

"Afterwards, I called him on it, and he wouldn't say much but that something he'd said in his letter got your attention; he wouldn't say what. He doesn't know what happened to you, either.

"Then tonight: you stood up and spoke at a remembrance for one of the people Harry loved most in the whole world and you hated the most, and while you honestly admitted you detested Sirius, and he you, you didn't once sneer or insult his memory. No offense meant, but that isn't like you, Sir. It doesn't add up, and I don't know what pieces are missing: but I'm figuring that you do."

Snape was silent for a few minutes; then he spoke, still in the quiet and even tone he had used all evening. "There is a difference, Mr. Weasley, between _knowing_ about a matter, and _causing_ it. The two are not _necessarily_ congruent. But be that as it may, I would ask you why _you_ are coming to _me_ with this, when I know that you despise me as much as you say I despise Mr. Potter."

Ron was unmoved outwardly; inwardly, he still struggled to hold his temper. "For Harry," he said simply. At a slight nod to continue from the other man, he elaborated. "He doesn't always look out for himself; Hermione and I have done it—or tried to, all these years. You of all people know _that_.

"We already _knew_ that he's going to be involved with…with fighting Tom Riddle again. Monday night, he admitted it, that _he's_ the one who has to do for Riddle. Well, that was no surprise; we've all kind of guessed that all along. He's somehow figured out that what we told him before we went to the Ministry, what it appears the Order is telling him, and what we told him Monday night, is true: he isn't alone. Hermione and I have _told_ him all along that whatever comes, we're to be there with him. Until now, he's refused to listen; he wants to do it all himself, so that we don't get hurt. Now he's listening, and he's accepting that. It's only been a month since…since he lost Sirius, and saw all of us _get_ hurt; I'm sure he's having nightmares about all that, if past history is anything to go by."

He had run out of breath; he took another deep breath. _In for a Knut, in for a Galleon_, he thought. _Here and now of all places Snape can't harm me._ "Hermione says I have the 'emotional range of a teaspoon'. I know I'm not nearly the brightest one in this room, and I'm usually too thick to see what's in front of me. But I'm looking at Harry, who's been my best friend for five years, and even I can see he's changed somehow. He's not so deep in his shell and he's not turning away from people, which is what he usually does when he hurts. He actually stood up in front of everyone tonight and spoke of something that hurts, and _that_ isn't like him at all. Considering what's happened, he's definitely not acting normally—or not all the time. Monday, he asked Hermione to look into researching the revival ritual. That's a little more normal; Hermione's our researcher. He insisted that it's _Dumbledore_ we have to keep alive afterwards, to win the peace. That's almost normal; but he's not the one who usually does advanced planning. And he called you brave. That isn't normal, no offense intended.

"And I look at you, Sir—and _you're_ not behaving normally at all either. Not in what Harry was talking about, not at the induction, or at mealtimes at school, and not tonight. You aren't insulting us, or sneering at us; you haven't once told us we're wrong, or too young or too Gryffindor to be involved. You've even actually talked to us about Family matters, with the adults. So, if _he's_ off, and _you're_ off, it's connected—but I don't see the connection."

Snape picked up his cup and took another sip of his tea. _Merlin's beard,_ he thought. _The boy is actually thinking instead of acting first. I didn't think he had it in him._ "So, based on your observations, what is your conclusion?" he asked.

Ron thought about how to say it. The fact that Snape hadn't yet insulted or snarled at him emboldened him to continue. "It would seem that you did _something_ to him—but I'll be blamed if I can figure out _what_. Harry wouldn't say what he wrote to you about, except for asking for some help, and that some of it was about stuff that he won't talk about without your say-so; that's on top of what he _did_ tell us, about settling the family feud. End of term you two were as usual, and I _know_ he blamed you in part for Sirius. Now you're actually being civil, and not just to him but to all of us, whom you normally can't stand to be in the same room with. At the induction, you didn't once respond to the call for someone to speak against any of us joining. You haven't once sniped at Professor Lupin, when we know you despise him too; you haven't insulted Sirius, when the two of you hated each other's guts. And you've been civil to the new Potions Professor, when it's common knowledge that you detest anyone else trying to teach your subject, although maybe because she's in your Family helped."

His gaze, which had dropped to his hands, now returned to Snape's eyes. "I don't know what the regular Order swears to, but if it's anything like we did Sunday, and if tonight's finale is any indication, then we're _supposed_ to be on the same side. I know that helping Harry isn't _entirely_ the same thing as supporting the Order against Riddle, but I figure that you aren't supposed to hurt him either. If you know something that can help Hermione and me help Harry, I'd…I'd like to know it." _There: I've actually asked him something he will have to answer, and haven't been hexed. Politeness seems to be working right now._

Snape reheated his tea with his wand, and sipped some more as he turned over Ron's comments in his mind. _He's calling the Dark Lord by his real name, as Albus does; this from a _Weasley_? Things are getting interesting… _ "Your reasoning is not so poor, Mr. Weasley," he said after a long moment. "You correctly infer that something has changed in my relationship with Mr. Potter; and you correctly deduced that the correspondence between us was involved. What you lack are enough facts to come to the correct conclusions. I commend Mr. Potter for maintaining privacy in private matters, as I thought him incapable of doing so where you and Miss Granger are concerned; I see that I was mistaken in that." He gave Ron a long, measuring look. "Is this all your reasoning, or did Miss Granger help you?"

"It's all mine, Sir," Ron replied steadily. "I haven't bounced any of this off Hermione. In any case, she's busy already with whatever she's going to be doing; I've hardly seen her since we came with her being in the Library almost all day. Tonight she's talking to Professor Dumarest." He nodded over to where he had last seen Hermione.

"And you do not fear that I will use the information against him, either for my own reasons, or for my other Master?" Snape knew that Ron knew what he was.

Ron _had_ thought about this—a lot. He really hated to agree with Hermione, but it was better than the alternative. "No, Sir," he replied. "I think now that Hermione's been right all along: if you had really intended to give Harry over to…to Him, or to really hurt him, you've had more than enough chances to by now. You might change again later, but right _now_ you're on our side." _I don't trust him fully yet._

"And you do not fear me?"

"Not here, and not now, with half the Order here, and not while we're supposed to be celebrating being on the same side and remembering one of the Order's own," Ron replied. "Maybe tomorrow you'll hurt me, and you probably will come term time and I'm in your Defense class. But there are three people here tonight not even you really want to cross, and who will be upset if you hurt me: Professor Dumbledore, Professor McGonagall, and Mum." Both smiled at that: Molly Weasley's temper was legendary, and her first priority was her children.

Snape took another sip, set down his cup, and leaned back with his fingers steepled again. "You are actually close to an answer, but you have not taken into account all the factors. But first: what did Mr. Potter tell you, _exactly_?"

Ron pulled up his memory of barely a few days previously. "Uh—he said that he'd written letters to you and the Headmaster." He gave a synopsis of what Harry had told them, ending with, "He went to sleep waiting for things to happen; then Professor Lupin woke him up to sign the guardianship forms and to pack. Then they came to Hogwarts. He didn't know about what all happened while he was asleep until Professor Lupin told him, the next day. That was Sunday night. Then Monday night, he told us that he'd claimed the House, and that it was you and Mad-Eye who got rid of that awful picture. Oh—and he also told us that he's the one who will have to do for Riddle in the end. We'd already guessed that."

_Now I can _almost_ believe what I saw in Potter's mind that time, and what Lupin told me about the Sorting Hat: Potter _would_ have been worthy of my House,_ thought Snape. _He told the Weasleys and the others enough to go on with, without telling them anything truly personal or confidential. That is very Slytherin of him._ Aloud, he said, "That is all true, but he did not tell you everything. Much had to wait until you were all Oathbound to the Order. Consider this, however: remember, Mr. Potter first wrote to me, not the other way around. You think I may have done something to him: have you ever considered that he _might_ have done something to _me_?"

Ron shook his head. "No offense meant, Sir, but I don't see how, even though Harry thinks he might have," he replied carefully. "You're—well, strong-willed and not easily swayed, and you _do_ have a long history with Harry, his parents, and their friends; while he might be able to convince you of something new, I have a hard time seeing him changing your mind on anything. I'm surprised that you agreed to make peace. To do what you have to do for the Order—and yes, we have a pretty good idea of _what_ you are—you _have_ to be strong-minded. I figure that you came with them because the Headmaster told you to."

Ron thought for a few more minutes. "But you _have_ had something happen, and I don't know what it is. And what else I can't figure out is _you_ being the one to lay into the Dursleys—not that they don't deserve it. Harry told me that part of it's you being a Pureblood and them being the worst sorts of Muggles."

Snape remained impassive for a moment; inwardly, he had a little smile at Ron's blunt assessment, which was actually fairly true—as far as it went. He then leaned forward a bit. "Mr. Potter has told you one good angle from which to view the matter," he suggested. "Vernon and Petunia Dursley are indeed the absolute epitome of the type of Muggle to which the Purebloods are so opposed, and about which Salazar Slytherin left the school: Muggle anti-Magical bigots related to a Wizard. Worse, they have spent years mistreating and neglecting a Wizard child, and attempting to stifle his magic. In many old Dark families, mine for one and Black's for another, that treatment would have been grounds for immediate execution—no hearing, no defense, but summary justice—not so many decades ago. The crime is even worse in Petunia's case, as she is the sister to a well-known and respected Muggleborn Witch and knows full well what magic is. What do you think would be the reaction from the Wizarding community, Purebloods and Muggleborns alike, were this information made public?"

Ron winced. "I don't know about the rest of them, but I know that Mum would do worse than send a Howler if she ever finds out everything—and Harry hasn't told us anywhere _near_ everything. Even I can see that. But he'd be mortally embarrassed if anything about it ever got out into our world; it'd be all over the _Prophet_ and _Witch Weekly_, for starters."

"He has not, and he would," Snape agreed quietly. "Now, consider what I am: a Pureblood Dark Wizard from one of the old Dark families, raised and trained with the usual Pureblood prejudices against Muggles and Muggleborns, and in the service of one who says he wishes to cleanse them from the Wizarding community."

His voice unconsciously hardened a little. "I _saw_ Mr. Potter's sterile Muggle house; I saw his wretched room with the locks on the doors, and I heard every word of the lies the Dursleys were telling their neighbors about him, repeated back _from_ the neighbors. Professor Dumbledore was very _kind _and _generous_ to allow me to be the one to explain the facts of life to them." A slight smile, not quite a smirk, appeared on his face. "To my way of thinking, the Dursleys have gotten off far easier than they have deserved: all we actually _did_ to them was Obliviate the memory of our faces and names, after which we removed Mr. Potter; the rest you know." He did not mention the Legilimency he had performed: that was not for any other ears but those who had already heard it.

Ron considered that for a few minutes, and then a few pieces moved together in his mind. "The Headmaster let you lay into the Dursleys because _you_ _wanted_ to do it—but it served _his_ interests," he thought out loud. "Then _he_ laid into them. I'll bet they were more scared of you than of him! How were you dressed?"

"Much as you see us tonight," Snape replied. "Once I Silenced, Stunned and Obliviated Marge Dursley—who does not know of our world, nor needs to—there was no need to maintain any disguises, as all the other Muggles had left."

Ron nodded. He couldn't believe that Snape was actually _talking_ to him, as one Wizard to another, and not sneering and sniping. "For people so scared of our world, unless Professor Dumbledore let himself show his real power, you'd be by far the scarier one, especially if you did all that in front of them. Professor Lupin is too mild-mannered, unless he gets mad, and Professor Dumbledore wouldn't have let him get too mad."

"Indeed," Snape agreed. "Lupin proved to be very useful in providing the calm voice of reason. Dumbledore showed them only a bare hint of his true power, and that was more than enough. I treated them the way I do the dunderheads in the classroom." That last was said with just a hint of sardonic humor.

Ron shook his head in admiration. This was a side of Snape he hadn't known existed. "They would have been outclassed by any one of you. All three, they never had a chance. I _really_ wish I'd seen that."

"Perhaps. But much of what we said, and what they said, are in regard to matters Mr. Potter prefers to keep to himself for now."

Ron nodded. "I figure I'll be told what I need to know, later." He straightened. "But even after all this, Sir, you _still _haven't answered my original question. Is that more Slytherin misdirection? If you don't want to answer, just _say_ so; I'm not fool enough to push _you_ on anything."

"And that would be the direct Gryffindor way to handle it," Snape agreed. He considered for a few minutes, and then he said, "Mr. Weasley, I can give you some of an answer, but not all of it. For a number of reasons, I will be tasked with a fair amount of the training for the Auxiliary Order this summer: not just the summer Potions class, but also Defense and combat training."

"Why you, Sir?" Ron figured that as long as Snape was still being polite, he would too. _And the more civil answers I get out of him, the more information I'll have to tell Hermione._

"Because I am a Defense and Dueling Master as well as a Potions Master, and I have more actual experience than almost anyone else here except the Headmaster and the Aurors," Snape replied. He was surprised at how calm and polite the usually excitable Weasley boy was being; such behavior deserved fair treatment. _The brat may actually be growing up!_ "As I will be the upper-level Defense Professor in the fall, this is one way for me to assess your abilities for both the Order and your fall class. You may already know about the summer DA; you in the Auxiliary Order will be the cadre for that.

"I also intend to teach you children about survival under adverse conditions: this conversation is part of that, in a way. As you obviously know, my very life depends on misdirection and deception; the Dark Lord is a demanding Master, and I must _always_ have the right answer at hand. You six are now greater targets than ever, and you know far too much as it is; Professor Dumarest and I will also be teaching you Occlumency. She, by the way, is exactly what she said she is, and much more besides: not only is she not personally annoying, which is not the case in regards to most of the rest of my family, but she is actually my superior in Potions; I will not say that about many living people, and of those, I trust almost no one. She is also another such as Black was, and Tonks and her mother are: a Light Witch from a Dark family. _All_ of you need to learn some of my 'Slytherin misdirection', as you call it, as not just your life or mine, but many others', not least Mr. Potter's, will depend on it. Before you can be told much more, you will need this.

"As to the how—for me to teach in my…usual manner…will take more time; I will still be as demanding as ever, but we can no longer afford to waste time in feuds and side-arguments—such as the feud between Black and me. The man is dead now, and maintaining a feud with a dead man is a waste of time. James Potter is long dead and that feud wastes time as well. That reason among others is why Mr. Potter and I have made our peace, and why Professor Lupin and I have also agreed to a truce for the duration. This is also part of why that clause in your oath was added: we all must work with people whom we dislike at the least and despise at worst."

He gave Ron a measuring, almost approving look. "In a way, you have had your first lesson in that tonight, and not done too poorly: that you put aside your considerable negative feelings for me, in an attempt to learn something with which to aid Mr. Potter. It will not be so difficult in private, but when the new fall term begins, we will all have to have a private face and a public face, often at odds with each other. To me, that is as necessary as breathing: the more that people are confused about my opinions and loyalties, the longer I will live and continue to be of use to the Order. You are not playing so complicated a game as I, but you will still need to be protected, and trained in discretion.

"And above all else: both you _and_ Mr. Potter need to learn to govern your tempers; you are both too volatile, and this is too easily used against you. I will refrain as I can from _needless_ provocation, but you must learn to endure needful provocation as part of your training; others will not be so kind, as you will remember from the Gryffindor/Slytherin Quidditch match. I will say now—in private—that Mr. Potter and your brother George were punished above what was truly deserved, although a week's detention with Professor McGonagall was too little, and that Fred was unjustly punished; but their tempers put them right into Umbridge's hands at a time when she held the power. Had the incident with Mr. Malfoy not occurred, another would have; she was truly seeking any way she could to discredit both your family and Mr. Potter. And even if I were not obliged to support Mr. Malfoy as his Head of House—as he was beaten far more than his insults deserved—there was nothing I could have done against her, so long as she had any power in the school. She is an ally of Lucius Malfoy, who is dangerous in his own right apart from what else he is, as you should know; she is also far more power-hungry than even Fudge, and that is saying rather much."

Ron thought all of that over; when put this way, in a logical order, he couldn't help but agree. Sheer temper had caused Harry and George to pound Draco Malfoy after the Quidditch match, and only the three Chasers' holding him down had kept Fred from joining in. Ron was glad now that he'd left immediately after the match, or he might have joined his brothers. And this was far more than he expected from Snape, although he knew the man had detested Umbridge as much as any of the other Professors had.

Another thought occurred to him. "Could she be a closet Death Eater?"

Snape shook his head. "No. Of this much, I am certain. But Lucius plays more than one game; the Dark Lord allows it so long as it furthers his own interests. She believes herself a true and loyal Ministry supporter, and that Lucius is one too; it will be interesting to see what her reaction will be to the events of last month—assuming she is in any condition to appreciate them. I will discuss this more at the debriefing meeting of the full Order tomorrow night, where we review the events of that night; all of you will be there."

Ron nodded, deferring that topic, and pulled back to a previous one. "So you're saying that I have to learn Occlumency, before you answer my original question?"

A faint amused glint began to appear in the dark eyes. "Ah—but I _did_ answer some of your question. _Think_ about what I have said, and apply it to your original question."

Ron did so. "You said that you and Harry had made your peace. OK—that explains _some_ of how you are both acting. Same for you and Professor Lupin. But it _still_ doesn't answer my original question, which was whether _you_ did anything _to_ Harry that would cause him to be so—so different."

"No, it does not," Snape agreed. "But you are paying attention, more so than you usually do in my class; you are also showing that you are more intelligent than you usually let on. As your reward, I will answer in a manner that you understand. No, I did not do anything to Mr. Potter that put him into his current frame of mind; he did that on his own. Whether he chooses to tell you how and why is up to him. I have merely offered him my support for taking a course of action of which, for once, I approve, and answered the quite intelligent questions he asked me in his letter as well as I could. None of us, including Mr. Potter, anticipated the incident with his relatives and neighbors, but all three of us adults witnessed the entirety of it, and were impressed by how well he handled it. It became obvious, however, that for him to recover fully and properly from the incidents from last month, so as to begin his training as he has asked of us, he had to be removed from that house, and new guardians assigned. As harsh as I am, even I have limits; leaving him with those Muggles was far beyond even anything I would have been willing to do. And before you ask why your parents were not chosen, realize that this is now wartime and they are already too obvious a target."

Ron nodded again; he couldn't believe how much Snape was telling him that he could actually agree with. "And now they're even more so, with Ginny and me involved; that's the whole family bar Percy-the-prat. That part makes sense, almost. And Mum would never let him anywhere near danger, either, which would put paid to any decent training."

He considered some more, and then looked up at the older man. "But Sir, you're not telling me what made _you_ change your attitude, either. You've come to some conclusion about it, and the correspondence is involved; but you're not telling me _how_ you got there, any more than Harry is telling me how _he_ got there."

Snape gifted Ron with his first genuine smile that night, which somewhat unnerved the Gryffindor. "Very good, Mr. Weasley, _very_ good. You _can_ pay attention, sift through data, and reason to a conclusion, even if it takes a while. Professor McGonagall thinks there is more to you than you let on in my class. Perhaps I shall take up her suggestion, and invite you to play chess with me some time this summer; I understand that you need some real opposition."

Ron nodded; he was in a state of mild shock at the approving tone of his least favorite Professor. "Well, I will say this for Harry: chess is one thing he _isn't_ good at, and I _am_," he replied. "Sure—I'll be glad to give you a match; I've heard that _you're_ good." A thought occurred to him, and his face tightened a little. "However, I am _not_ going to wager any House points or money, until I have a better idea of _how_ good you are. I know better than that."

Snape's smile did not fade. "That is sensible and fair, Mr. Weasley," he replied. He looked as if he would say more, but both looked up at seeing Professor Dumbledore approach. Snape banished the Silencing Charm.

"I am very glad to see the two of you talking in a civilized manner for once," the Headmaster smiled at both of them. "But now I am asking everyone to finish up and go home, or return to the school; there will be much to do tomorrow and I for one need my rest. It has been a very long day and evening."

Snape and Ron stood. "Sorry, Sir," Ron said contritely. "We had a Silencing Charm up and lost track of the time." Snape nodded his agreement.

Dumbledore waved off the apology. "I understand," he said gently. "These things happen, and sometimes when they are needed. But this is the first of what I hope will be many chances to discuss things." He beamed at the two of them.

_Severus,_ he thought, as he watched Snape and Ron rise to leave, _you're making a valuable ally here: don't spoil it!_


	5. Debriefing

Disclaimers: Harry Potter and his world belong to J.K. Rowling and to her assorted publishers, not to me. Antonia Dumarest _is_ mine, as are the assorted Snape and Dumarest relatives, and may be used with permission; e-mail me.

Spoilers:First five HP novels, mainly OotP. AU to HBP

Note: This chapter edited slightly from original posting, with additions at the end.

**Prelude to War—SUMMER**

**DEBRIEFING**

(Friday, 19 July 1996)

The first joint meeting of the Order and the Auxiliary took place at Headquarters several days after the induction of the students. Albus Dumbledore as Head of the Order led off the meeting.

"Good evening," he said. "Tonight's meeting will be focused on last month's events at the Ministry. My intent is to put all of us on the same information level, so that those of us who only knew their own part have a better understanding of the entire event. This will be an Auror-level after-action meeting, so I will turn this over to Kingsley Shacklebolt of the Auror Division." He gestured to the tall Black man. "If you would, Kingsley."

Shacklebolt rose and went to the podium that Dumbledore had conjured for him. "First, I wish to emphasize that this is _not_ a meeting to assign blame. This is intended to determine exactly _what_ happened, and when, so that mistakes made will not be repeated. Second, I will say that this briefing is not for the benefit of the Ministry, but for us, although some of you may be called upon to testify about these events at the Death Eater trials." He turned to Dumbledore. "Where shall I begin?"

Dumbledore considered, and said, "Begin with Mr. Potter's vision, as that is the event that triggered all the rest."

Shacklebolt nodded, and turned to Harry. "Mr. Potter, if you please?"

Harry gulped inside. This was going to be _very_ difficult, with all the adults looking at him. But if the adults were to take him and the other teens at all seriously, he would have to make the effort. _For you, Sirius,_ he promised silently. _I pledged everything I had to this effort; I have to deliver_. _I _won't_ let anyone else die because of my own stupid pride; I can't afford it any more._ He took a deep breath, and began: shakily at first, then more steadily, he told them of the vision of the long corridor and hallway, hearing the Dark Lord apparently torture a defiant Sirius. As he paused for a breath, Shacklebolt asked a question.

"Why did you believe the vision genuine?"

That was easy. "Because all the other ones had been, like the one with Nagini and Mr. Weasley," Harry replied. He continued with his trying to reach Professor McGonagall, only to find that she had been sent to St. Mungo's; telling Hermione and Ron, and Hermione's misgivings; how a plan had been devised with Ginny and Luna to see if Sirius had indeed left home; how Harry had firecalled Headquarters, only to be taunted by Kreacher.

Dumbledore interrupted there. "Kreacher also laughed at me, when I finally arrived later; he had been double-dealing for months with Narcissa Malfoy. Sirius was perfectly well at the time of Harry's call, tending to Buckbeak upstairs."

Harry then continued with an account of Umbridge coming back and interrupting them; how the Inquisitorial Squad had captured not only all of them, but Neville as well. He continued with how Umbridge had sent Draco Malfoy for Professor Snape, and it was only then that he had belatedly remembered that Snape was also in the Order, and had tried to give him a coded warning. When he had told them the warning, Shacklebolt held up his hand.

"That was quick thinking in a crisis, Mr. Potter," he commended. He turned to Snape. "Professor, would you please continue your point of view, after you left the Defense office?"

Snape narrated how he had realized exactly what Harry had meant, and as soon as he could he had called Headquarters himself, determining that Sirius was indeed alive and well. "When I returned to the Defense office, I found the Inquisitorial Squad disabled or stunned, and Umbridge and all of their captives gone," Snape continued. "The Squad members told me that Umbridge had taken Potter and Granger, and where. But when they did not return, and neither did Umbridge, I grew concerned that they had managed either to go to the Ministry, or had come to harm in the Forest. I was more concerned, when I realized that of the three of them, only Umbridge had a wand, and had never demonstrated any combat skills for me to judge whether she actually _had_ any skill. There are many hazards in the Forest, not only the centaurs and the Acromantulas, and given Umbridge's consistent behavior, she would have saved herself first rather than her students. I had no way of knowing if the other four could join the two already missing, or if they would miss each other; the Potter and Granger wands had been taken from the Inquisitors, and were obviously in the hands of the others. Therefore, I called Headquarters again, alerting all the members there about the vision—for that was what it had to have been—and asked Black to stay behind to alert Professor Dumbledore. I then went back to the Forest to search there first."

Shacklebolt nodded. "Miss Granger, after Professor Snape left the Defense office, what happened?"

Hermione took a deep breath, and began. "Umbridge seemed to nerve herself up for something, then started to use the Cruciatus on Harry, to make him talk. That is when she said that she would get the information out of him first, and tell the Minister afterwards; also, that she had never told him—the Minister, that is—that it was she who set the dementors on Harry in his Muggle neighborhood." That set off murmurs of outrage. "I interrupted her, told her that we were trying to reach Professor Dumbledore, and offered to tell all and show her the weapon out in the forest."

"I thought for a moment you'd cracked up, because I knew there was no such weapon," Harry said. "Then I realized that as loud as you were crying, I didn't see any tears. You fooled all of them." He managed a smile of pride for her.

Hermione nodded. "I can't make tears on demand, but I can make noise." She continued the narrative up to the point where she and Harry got away in the confusion between Umbridge, the centaurs and Grawp.

She then turned to Professor Snape. "Sir, you were absolutely correct about one thing: although we were leading, she refused to let either of us have the wand on the grounds that the Ministry valued her more than us."

Snape gave her one of the little sardonic smiles that indicated his rare approval. "Umbridge constantly overvalued herself, and underestimated not only the Professors, but the students," he said. "What happened to her wand?"

"A centaur stepped on it," Hermione replied, "or one of us would have grabbed it." After a pause, she then directly addressed Shacklebolt. "Sir, can Umbridge be prosecuted for attempting to use an Unforgivable on a student, even though she didn't get the curse all the way out?"

The Auror thought for a moment. "By itself, since she did not in fact complete it, perhaps not; but taken with all the other evidence of the Blood Quill and the Dementors, yes, it will be an additional serious charge, the more so since she confessed her premeditated intent to use it in front of all of you. Ms. Umbridge may be a Senior Undersecretary reporting directly to the Minister, and was at the time the interim Head of Hogwarts and its High Inquisitor besides; but she _is_ not and never _has_ been an Auror or involved in the Magical Law Enforcement Department; none of her so-called 'Educational Directives' gave her any such powers. _Only_ the Aurors have _ever_ been authorized to use the Unforgivables, _only_ on dangerous or convicted _adult_ Dark Wizards, and _only_ in direct combat; torturing for information is strictly illegal, and on a minor doubly so. So, by the way, is her attempted use of Veritaserum on a minor; I commend Professor Snape's subterfuges with regard to giving her fake Veritaserum the last time, and denying it to her this time.

"Her use of the Dementors on Mr. Potter in Little Whinging is also forbidden to someone not in the MLE Department, the more so since according to Mr. Potter's report at his trial, an innocent Muggle was involved, his cousin. Had Master Dursley been Kissed there would had to have been a serious investigation made; not only is he a Muggle related to a Wizard, but he was not even under investigation for, let alone convicted, of anything rating the Kiss. Nor was Mr. Potter, who should have been commended, not condemned, for his quick use of the Patronus." He looked directly at Hermione. "Miss Granger, that was also quick thinking in a crisis. Well done." Hermione nodded thanks.

Shacklebolt continued. "So, at this time, we have Miss Granger and Mr. Potter out in the Forest without wands, and Professor Snape alerting the members at Headquarters. Of the rest of you students, who will tell us the part involving your escape?"

"I will," Ginny spoke up. "See, they'd taken Harry's wand and Hermione's—but they hadn't taken ours. While they were distracted, the first of us—Luna, they were ignoring her—managed to get a wand out; then I nailed Malfoy with a Bat Bogey, Neville did a nice Impediment Jinx, and we all used a Disarming Charm and bunch of Stunners. After they were all down, we took their wands and hid them, then got Harry's and Hermione's. We saw them headed out to the Forest, so that's where we went. We caught up with them after the centaurs took Umbridge and Grawp and the centaurs chased each other off, and gave them back their wands."

"I suspect there is a great deal more about this Grawp and the centaurs, but that is not directly relevant right now," Shackebolt said. He turned back to Harry. "What happened next?"

Harry took a deep breath. "I didn't want the others to come with me, but they argued me down. Luna is the one who thought of using thestrals, but it was a little difficult, in that three of us could see them and three of us couldn't. Anyway, they came to us, we mounted, and I told them to go to the Ministry in London." He continued with the entrance, the various rooms they had gone through, then the Prophecy Room, and the first confrontation with the Death Eaters. Shacklebolt stopped him there.

"Right, we now have the six of you facing a dozen Inner Circle Death Eaters, who are only holding back because of their Master's orders to obtain the Prophecy intact being above those for harming you."

"Right," agreed Harry. He went on to tell how they had shattered the shelves and gotten away, been split up, and chased through room after room, fighting as they went. Neville and the others put in bits, mainly about their opponents and how each fight came out, and who was injured when, as Harry stopped for breath, and to collect himself. When they reached the part about being chased into the Death Chamber, Shacklebolt held up his hand again.

"This is where we came in, responding to Professor Snape's warning," he said. "So, we have four injured students out of action in other places, and Longbottom and Potter in the Death Chamber, with the former unable to articulate a spell. I came in with Moody, Tonks, Black, and Lupin, and all of us were immediately engaged in a running firefight." He continued his part, including his battle with Bellatrix after she had taken down Tonks and Sirius.

The other Order members also briefly told their parts of the fight, with whom they had fought, and how each duel came out. Then Harry reluctantly told how Macnair had grabbed him, and how he had been rescued by Neville; how he and Sirius had downed Dolohov; and how he had tossed the Prophecy to Neville after blasting Lucius Malfoy across the room; how Neville, already crippled by Dolohov's _Tarantellagra_ hex, had pocketed the Prophecy, only to have his robes torn and the Prophecy fall out and break, with no one hearing it owing to the noise level.

"Then Professor Dumbledore arrived," Shacklebolt continued as Harry paused to collect himself, "and managed to trap all of them except Bellatrix; she and Sirius were on the other side of the Archway. After she Stunned him through the Veil, she then set to with me; after some time she took me down and ran away. She evaded Dumbledore's spells and got out of the room, with Potter in pursuit. Most of us were injured ourselves and could not join the pursuit. Lupin and Longbottom went back through to find the other students; all of the wounded were retrieved and sent to Hogwarts or St. Mungo's."

Harry took a deep breath as the eyes of the rest of the Order turned back to him. _Thank you, Mr. Shacklebolt_, he thought, aiming a grateful look toward the tall Auror. _This way, I didn't have to be the one to tell about Sirius. Now comes the other hard part—about her, and about Tom._

"I chased her all the way back to the Atrium," Harry continued softly. "She tried to get the Prophecy and wouldn't believe me when I said it was broken. She bragged on how much the Dark Lord favored her and what He'd taught her, while we were exchanging shots. Then, I told her that it was still gone, and more, that He knew. I knew that because…because I felt His anger through my scar—it wasn't mine. She got scared a bit, wouldn't believe me. Then He showed up, brushed her off when she groveled, and complained about how after months of preparation and effort, His Death Eaters allowed me to beat them. Then He went to kill me; that was when Professor Dumbledore arrived. He animated the broken Wizard statue to protect me, and the Witch to pin Bellatrix; then he and Riddle dueled."

He took a deep breath, and looked over at Dumbledore; the Headmaster returned his gaze calmly. "It was…I'd say inconclusive. I was pinned and couldn't help. Fawkes appeared; he ate one Killing Curse and was turned into a chick. Riddle tried to possess me; Professor Dumbledore wouldn't…wouldn't take his bait, and I managed to push him out." _That_ drew attention: few had realized that the situation had been so dire, and those who didn't know Harry well found it hard to reconcile this slight, soft-spoken teenager with someone who could defy the Dark Lord repeatedly and survive. "Anyway, Riddle ended up Disapparating and took Bellatrix with him, but not before the Minister and some more Aurors arrived and saw him. I was sent back to Hogwarts with a Portkey."

All eyes then turned to Dumbledore, who took up his part of the narrative. "After I sent Harry back, I confronted the Minister. Since he had seen Tom with his own eyes, he could not deny it any longer. I took him aside and brought him up to date, including pointing out how pleased Tom had been that the Aurors had been wasting resources chasing the wrong people for months and years. When I came back to Hogwarts that night, I discussed matters with Harry, and then sent him to bed." He omitted any mention of Harry's anger, the revelation of the Prophecy, or the trashing of the Headmaster's office.

"Over these weeks since then, I have been able to force a full retraction of _all_ of those Ministry directives, including all those which gave Dolores Umbridge _any_ power whatever in Hogwarts. This applies, among others, to the bans on the students and their rights, the meddling in the teaching practices, the sackings of Professors Trelawney and Hagrid, the attempted arrest of Professor Hagrid, and the placing of Professor Snape on probation for failing to give her what he neither had to give, nor had any right to give.

"In addition to all else mentioned today, I intend to see to it that Umbridge is charged with conspiracy to commit assault on Professor McGonagall. Minerva as the Deputy had every right to protest Hagrid's unwarranted arrest, and had no wand in her hand at the time of being attacked without provocation by four of the five Aurors who came for Hagrid. Further, I will see to it that she is charged with making false accusations resulting in the Aurors attempting to make arrests on the staff. As I said last week, if and when she recovers enough to stand trial, she _will_ be prosecuted and punished to the full extent of the law."

Shacklebolt gave a nod. "So, the outcome of the battle was this: on our side, out of twelve effectives, half of them students, we lost one adult killed, three adults and five students wounded, three seriously, none irreparably. On theirs, out of thirteen effectives they had eleven captured, and most of them wounded; two escaped uninjured.

"The primary gain for the Light is the fact that the Minister saw the Dark Lord with his own eyes; he can no longer deny his return to power, nor can he deny the captured Death Eaters; the Ministry _must_ now act to protect the public, or Fudge's days in office will be very short indeed.

"The major secondary gains are two: first, Lucius Malfoy was captured and exposed as a ranking Death Eater, although matters must be advanced quickly to capitalize on that before he can wield any influence to buy his way out. As I understand it, Mr. Potter," he turned to Harry, "according to all the evidence that you and your group have given us so far, Mr. Malfoy was the leader of this mission, acting under Riddle's orders."

Harry nodded, and Hermione said, "That's true; he was giving the orders. It was pretty clear what his orders were, and from whom. We _heard_ him directing the others to go easy on Harry until the Prophecy was captured, and to abandon Nott rather than lose the Prophecy; we also heard him address each one of the others by name when he ordered them to split up and hunt for us."

"And that is the most essential part of what your testimony will have to cover: that he not only participated, he was the active leader as Riddle's deputy," Shacklebolt emphasized. "He will have a _very_ hard time blaming the Imperius Curse for that.

"The second gain was that the Headquarters building was safeguarded for us. While he was killed in the action, reliable witnesses—such as Moody, Tonks and I—nonetheless saw Sirius Black fighting _against _the Death Eaters, not for them, and protecting Harry, not harming him. I have been for some time in charge of the Black manhunt, and have been able to divert attention away from him for the benefit of the Order; I have written my final report in such a manner that with the testimony from Professor Dumbledore and the previous verbal testimony from the students that Peter Pettigrew is indeed alive, Black has been officially declared deceased, posthumously exonerated, and his estate cleared for probate. This house we use is part of the Black holdings, and has been inherited by his Godson, Mr. Potter, whose trustees are Professor Dumbledore and Remus Lupin; he has formally taken possession of the entire estate, and all of them have affirmed the permission that Black gave in his Will, to continue the use of the house as Order Headquarters, and have effectively barred the rest of the Blacks other than Tonks. His Will also denies the Black wealth to the Malfoys and the Lestranges, and thus to the Death Eaters' treasury; also, a portion of it has been made directly available to the Order.

"Next, I would like to ask Professor Snape if he has been summoned since then, and if so, what is the current state of things there."

"Yes, I have," replied Snape. He rose, but stayed in his place rather than going to the front. "The Dark Lord was greatly incensed at the failure of the Death Eaters to carry out the mission, the more so since they were held off long enough for help to come by, in His words, '_half _their number of _children_—a flake, a fumbler, a Mudblood, the two _least_ Weasleys, and the Boy-Who-Refuses-to-Die'." The students looked at each other, but didn't rise to the comment.

"Bellatrix was punished severely for her part in the failure; He used extensive _Legilimency_ on her as well, and now knows just how things went wrong and who was to blame. He was also angry with Dumbledore for protecting Potter, and not conveniently getting killed himself. Pettigrew and Goyle were not involved in the mission at all, and only received token punishments. I managed to avoid…_severe_ discipline, once I explained Umbridge's blame in her holding of Potter and Granger. She might have been able to expel Potter, but that does not mean he would have been free to be captured. I gave Umbridge a good bit of the blame for why it took so long for Potter to respond to the trap; after all, it was she who confiscated his broomstick and restricted his movements, not his Head of House or the Headmaster. In my account, I may have…enlarged my part of seeing to it that Potter was free to fall into the trap; but I was able to base it in enough fact so that if any of the Inquisitorial Squad report back, their account will tally with mine, and Umbridge will get the blame rather than me.

"I do recall that when she placed me on probation for failing to provide her with a Truth Potion that day, she mentioned how much Lucius Malfoy had recommended me; I suspect that she is one of those who are not Death Eaters, but working with Malfoy on his own schemes in the Ministry, independent of the Dark Lord, so that he may be a winner regardless of who wins the War. This is one matter that we must _not_ ignore: Malfoy is one of the most dangerous Dark Wizards alive even without his Master. He has gold, a smooth personality, and political power, which make up in large part for not being as magically powerful as his Lord, and make him appear less…undesirable…to the ordinary citizen. He will now hate Mr. Potter more than ever, as well as the Weasleys, and will be seeking revenge.

"Losing eleven of the Inner Circle has been a severe setback in the Dark Lord's plans; they are most of the cadre to train and lead new Death Eaters. All there are left of those are Goyle, Bella, Pettigrew and I, and that is hardly enough to start anything major, even with the dementors, new recruits and lesser ranks. He _will_ try to break the others out, regardless of when the trials are, or their outcome; however, once they _are_ free, they will be disciplined for their failures. Lucius may well think Azkaban an easier ordeal than what our Master will do to him."

"And your conclusions?" asked Shacklebolt.

Snape's voice was harder now, more his usual scornful tone. "As I said last week, Fudge must move immediately to execute those already convicted, especially Dolohov and the Lestrange brothers. I sincerely doubt that he will. The students who were involved are all now known to the Dark Lord; He will be going after them. This is why we must train them further to defend themselves; there are not enough of us in the Order to defend them. And the Ministry _must_ be kept away from them, or else they will be hampered in their own survival; having the likes of Umbridge at Hogwarts may cost us far more than it already has, in that the students are now even further behind in practical Defense. _Only_ the DA and Serpent's Fangs students, and a very few who were taught at home, were able to meet the practical levels for this years' examinations with any grade higher than 'Acceptable'.

"There is also this: the true state of Umbridge's condition must be determined, and if there is any chance of her recovery, she must be protected until she can be tried. She knows too much about both the Ministry and Hogwarts; the Dark Lord will wring her dry if he thinks she has enough mind left, or worse, recruit her." He then sat down.

Shacklebolt was silent for a few minutes, and then spoke again. "So—now that all of us knows what happened, what were the errors made, and how may we avoid them the next time?"

Harry stood up. "The blame is all mine, Sir," he said quietly. "I—"

The Auror cut him off. "I said that we are not assigning _blame_, Mr. Potter," he stated firmly. "But since you are standing, then state the errors you made and a solution for next time."

Harry closed his eyes for a moment, and then looked directly back at Shacklebolt. He had expected something like this ever since the meeting had started, and had prepared his points. "I made most of the errors, Sir," he said. "First, when I started having the dreams about the hallways, I should have told someone sooner; my first error was refusing to trust Professor Dumbledore out of hurt feelings. Second, I should have been more forthcoming about the nature of some of the visions. When I had the vision of Mr. Weasley, it was from the viewpoint _of_ Nagini, the snake that bit him. She's Riddle's pet. But I didn't want to fuel the rumors that were going around about me being crazy or maybe going Dark. That was an error of pride.

"Third, when I was assigned Occlumency, I should have tried harder, and if I was having difficulty comprehending what was wanted from the lessons, I should have said so, if not to Professor Snape, then to Professor Dumbledore. Fourth, I should have made an effort to reconcile with Professor Snape, after we had the quarrel that stopped the lessons; that was incited by another error I made, which I will not discuss now.

"Fifth, I should have looked sooner at a package Sirius gave me, which contained a two-way mirror for which he had the mate; I would have never needed to use Umbridge's fireplace, causing that entire confrontation, and I would have known Sirius was all right…" He faltered, then took a deep breath and continued. Not another sound was heard in the room. "Had I known that, despite the vision, I would have known that I was being lied to, and would have told Sirius, since by then Professor Dumbledore had left. But at first I didn't want him to risk it, and later I forgot about it, and never opened it until afterwards, when it was…too late."

_Hold it in, Potter,_ he sternly reminded himself. _Plenty of time later for screaming. All of them are on the same side._ "Those are the errors made, that caused this to happen at all. Sixth, I should have listened to Hermione, who warned me that I could be getting a false vision. She's much smarter than I am, and saw that I was being played very neatly. She just had no way to _prove_ it, one way or the other, which is why we risked Umbridge's fireplace. Seventh, by that time, Professor Dumbledore was gone, and Professor McGonagall was in St. Mungo's: I completely forgot that Professor Snape was in the Order, until he was brought in by Malfoy at Umbridge's wishes, so all I _could_ do was attempt the fireplace, and then the coded message. Had I remembered earlier, things _might_ not have gotten so far."

Shacklebolt held up his hand. "Very well, all those were errors that allowed the incident to happen in the first place. It would seem that a great many of these were problems of communication: those who had information either could not or would not share it with the ones who needed it. And, Mr. Potter, you are not the only one who made those errors; much might have been averted had you known what questions to ask, and gotten answers. You were not aware, then, of just what those globes were?"

"I was not, until Malfoy referred to them as prophecies," Harry replied. "And the next mistake I made was removing the one with my name on it—simply _because_ it had my name on it. After Malfoy deflected Bellatrix' first curse, so that it broke two of them, I saw the figures come out and talk. But once I had it, they weren't going to hurt me until they got it. And once I saw that I'd been lied to about…about _why_ I'd needed to be there, I knew that my next responsibility was to get everyone else out. That's why we broke the shelves; we escaped the room under cover of the breakages."

"And that was another example of inspired crisis action," Shacklebolt commented.

"Maybe—but we did destroy a great deal, and I'm surprised that the Ministry hasn't come down on us about it," Harry replied.

The Auror shook his head. "You were acting in defense of your lives; the property damage was incidental to that. I do not see any serious consequences arising from that, considering all else that happened. So—you recognize the errors you made; how many of them were avoidable, and how many of them were sheer mischance, caused by lack of knowledge?"

Harry had to think that one over. "Not telling Professor Dumbledore, or someone, about the dreams in the first place; I think I had gotten used to them. That was an error of pride and hurt feelings, as was, in part, not telling Professor McGonagall the truth about my detentions; I didn't want Umbridge to know she was getting to me, but I was also trying to protect Professor McGonagall from Umbridge." At that, McGonagall could no longer restrain herself.

"Mr. Potter, it is the _duty_ of your Head of House to deal with gross mistreatment by a Professor!" she snapped. "It is not your duty to protect us; it is _ours_ to protect _you_!"

"But if I _had_ told you about her, you would have been sacked or attacked sooner, and there would have been no one left to protect anyone else," Harry replied sadly. "I could see what she wanted to do—sack everyone loyal to the Headmaster. There is nothing that you could have done, especially after she was made High Inquisitor."

Harry bowed his head. "Not looking in the package: that was forgetfulness, but I wish Sirius had told me more clearly what was in it. Also, I was afraid to tell him much for fear he'd break his cover and be caught. Not rectifying the situation with Professor Snape: that was partly based on mutual dislike and mistrust. That _has_ been settled now, to a point, but too late to deal with the original situation. Not listening to Hermione. All of those were avoidable, and directly caused by my own stupid pride."

"Not all of it, Harry," Hermione interrupted. "You were under a great deal of pressure, not just from all of this, but from the O.W.L.-Year scholastic load and all the idiocies going around the school about you, fueled by the _Prophet_, to say nothing of what Umbridge was doing to you. There is only so much you could have taken without acting in _some_ fashion. _Everyone_ has limits." The other students nodded; so did some of the adults.

Harry looked over at her. "I know. But I could have acted more correctly, even despite my frustration about not knowing enough. And the _one_ thing I regret most of all, apart from losing Sirius, was having all of you follow me in, and get hurt. The next time you may not be so lucky."

Shacklebolt cut back in. "Do _not_ regret that, Mr. Potter," he said firmly. "You were correct in accepting backup; consider how things would have gone had you been alone. As it was, you were outnumbered two-to-one. Had you faced _all_ of them alone, or with fewer numbers, you _would_ be dead or a prisoner in truth, and possibly the Prophecy would have been captured. Without the ability to Apparate, you would have been trapped, and I doubt that we would have found you in time."

Harry bowed his head. He hadn't quite thought of things that way.

The Auror was silent for a moment, thinking things through, and then continued.

"I think I see what the overall situation was. Mr. Potter, you appear to have acted according to your own best judgment, based on the information you had, and using the resources available to you in a hostile environment. It is not all to your blame that the information was flawed. After your arrival, at each decision point, you consulted with the others, and took the best of the offered help. When it came to the facedown, you came up with a workable, if desperate, exit plan, and were able to lead the others to carry it out. You successfully used the desires of the Death Eaters for the Prophecy as leverage to an extent, buying yourselves time; you managed to correctly handle Mr. Longbottom and Miss Granger when the latter was disabled, in letting him carry her and use her wand while you defended. You avoided most of the worst of the in-place dangers, and managed to do your fair share in the melee. And there is this: while there were injuries among your team, there were no fatalities. Sirius was on the Order's team, and was the only one.

"And this may help: Sirius' information was no better or worse than yours; each of you believed the other in danger and in need of aid. You _did not_ lead him to his death; that was mischance. He was dueling a fighter as good as he or better, who had already taken down Tonks and afterward took me, and neither of us are beginners. Nor is the Headmaster, and she evaded his spells. You also managed to avoid being injured or killed by her, although part of that was due to Riddle's arrival. In the final confrontation, the very fact that you survived yet again against Riddle is a point in your favor, even allowing for the fact that Dumbledore was there."

Shacklebolt turned to the other two Aurors present. "Alastor, Tonks, what do you say?"

Moody was direct and to the point, as usual. "_He's_ alive, and so are the rest of his team, all of whom were taught by him. _They_ got caught, bar Bellatrix and Riddle. We only lost one, and Fudge had his nose rubbed in Riddle's return. I'd've given all the rewards I ever earned, to have had half the battles in the First War go so well, and I'd probably still have a few body parts I don't have now. There are a lot of Aurors who wouldn't have done half as well."

Tonks nodded agreement. "For what he had to work with, he did well. Yes, he was lucky too, but he made use of it. I don't think he should be ashamed at all, and neither should any of his team. They were outmatched and outnumbered, but they lasted long enough for help to arrive—and often, that's the important thing."

"I have a question," offered Emmeline Vance, an older Witch, as Harry finally sat down. "What was _in_ that Prophecy that You-Know-Who was so mad to get that he sends a dozen of his best to get it?"

Dumbledore rose, and went to the podium next to Shacklebolt. The two of them made an interesting contrast standing there: the tall, bald Black Auror and the equally tall, silver-haired and full-bearded Headmaster. "Emmeline, all of us in the Order know of the prophecy of the Seventh-Month child destined to be able to vanquish the Dark Lord. Voldemort knows it too. But what he does not know, nor the Order, is _all_ of it; and the rest of it is what he wished to have. That is why he bent considerable effort in long-distance Legilimency and dream tampering, to utilize the connection between Mr. Potter and himself, so that Mr. Potter would eventually be lured to the Department of Mysteries to remove the Prophecy, as in fact happened." He gave a deep, sad sigh; for a moment, his great age showed even more. "_My _greatest error was not telling Mr. Potter enough beforehand to show him why he would be so targeted, and why he must not go there in real life."

"But doesn't that mean…" Vance turned toward Harry, who looked back at her, outwardly calmly. "I mean, if it's about him _and_ Mr. Potter…"

"That Mr. Potter is the Prophecy Child, yes," Dumbledore replied quietly.

The room was now totally silent. He stood a little taller, and stretched a bit; he then returned his gaze to Vance for a moment, to Harry for another, then to the room in general. "This is in part why we have founded the Auxiliary Order. Mr. Potter and his friends have already proven themselves brave and resourceful; what _I_ failed to ever give _him_ enough of was information by which he could have avoided this trap. He and his friends _will_ be involved again; Tom does not take defeat well, and is no respecter of ages when he aims at a target.

"And eventually, we in the Order must be prepared for a pitched battle. Tom cannot do it now, but as soon as he either frees his Inner Circle or recruits sufficient replacements, or both, there will be skirmishes, and they will escalate. In any case, it will rest with Mr. Potter at the end; but there is no reason why the rest of us cannot _hurt_ Tom until then."

"But that will take _years_!" protested Antonia Dumarest. "These boys and girls are good, granted, but to train them to face the one who only fears _you_?"

Dumbledore was quiet for a moment, allowing the murmuring of the other members to die down. "I suspect that there will be more to _that_ encounter than mere combat skills," he said softly. "In any case, they have just had their first trial against a dozen of Tom's best fighters, and managed to survive. Tom is not the only one who will be in the field when it finally comes down to it: he will have his allies, and Mr. Potter will need allies of his own to face them, besides us adults. And Mr. Potter is not the only one of the students who has faced Tom and lived to tell the tale: Miss Weasley had an unfortunate encounter with a diary in her first year that was imbued with an essence of Tom at sixteen. Even then, he was brilliant and quite powerful; it was this avatar of his that opened the Chamber of Secrets through Miss Weasley. Had Mr. Potter not slain the Basilisk and destroyed the diary, Tom might have risen sooner than he did, using Miss Weasley as his channel. As it is, she resisted him for most of the school year, until he finally wore her down—and that is no mean feat for an eleven-year-old." He smiled at Ginny, who was trying hard to sit still and not get upset.

His voice rose a fraction in volume. "I have no particular talent in Divination, but I have been through several similar situations in my life. What I have recently come to realize is this: Tom and his people _must_ be brought down _soon_, or the Second War will be longer, bloodier and crueler than the First. The Ministry is divided: some of them will help us, some will try to hurt us, and some will merely wait until a winner is decided. We cannot count on their support, and we must watch for more of the likes of Dolores Umbridge, who will be as dangerous to us as the Death Eaters. She is an ally of Lucius Malfoy, who is apparently playing two sides for his own benefit, neither of them ours.

"So, my friends, it is up to us: we must find a way to put Tom into a situation where we have the upper hand, _before_ he can build up his forces to be enough for serious conquest. As I told my Heads of House last week: in order for Tom to conquer fully, he must take or suborn the Ministry, and he must take or destroy Hogwarts. Tom has his supporters in both places. The most we can do in the Ministry at this time is prevent him from totally taking over, while we build our defensive position. I will be actively working in the Wizengamot, now that I have been restored, and I will continue my work with the International. Too many of them consider Tom to be a British problem only; they refuse to realize that he has allies outside our island, and that if we fall, then they will be next.

"Hogwarts is another matter: he cannot take it while I live, and I am initiating matters so that he cannot take it in any case, my life or death notwithstanding. It will be, before summer is over, in fact as well as in legend the safest place in our world. And we must train and recruit ourselves, so that we may be ready."

He turned to Harry for a moment, then back to the group at large. "To answer your question, Tish, we are training the students mainly to defend themselves and others from the Death Eaters and Dementors, rather than Tom himself. Mr. Potter has asked us to advance his training to prepare for the confrontation that will come one day between himself and Tom. All of this we will be doing this summer, under cover of extra-credit summer seminars. Later, after preparations are made, there will be a summer Potions class that will run through August until the beginning of term in September; many of the students to be invited to that are in the DA, and will be participating in a summer DA. More will be inducted into that, and some of the DA will be inducted in turn, discreetly, into the Auxiliary Order. When term begins, the DA will become an official club open to all four Houses; those who are in the Order will be the training cadre. And yes, we will have Slytherins in it; many of the officers of the Serpent's Fangs Defense club were not on Tom's side at all, and they will need help to deal with those in that House who are. Tom will recruit in all four Houses, not just his own, but the Serpent's House has always been his primary target. We also hope to turn some of his possible recruits to our side. In this, our student allies will be essential.

"Meanwhile, we adults must also prepare and recruit, to help in the larger community, so that the average Witch and Wizard knows that their rights are safe, and that Tom is not assured a victory."

Dumbledore paused, scanned the room from one side to another, and then spoke again. "Have I your support in all this? Will you stand by our new younger members and their allies, and give them the proper respect and credit for their help, so that the human costs of this war may be no higher than they must? And will you support my deputies and seconds, so that if I should fall or have to go underground, the Order will carry on?"

Arthur Weasley stood up and spoke. "We'll do all that. But Albus, please remember that you still _do_ have far more influence and power than any single one of the rest of us. I know that you're mortal, and that you have backups and backup plans in place; but please try to protect yourself as well. Maybe we can continue without you, but we'd rather have you." There were some murmurs of assent around the room.

Dumbledore smiled. "I know, Arthur, and I will not be foolish with my life. I intend, instead, to go back into training myself, so that if it comes to it I can give the best fight of my life. But as you said, I _am_ mortal, and I am not young. If I do appear to be slowing down or failing of health in public, it may not be an accurate reflection of my actual health; or it may be. Only time will tell, and as I said, I have no particular talent at Divination." He inclined his head, and resumed his seat.

Shacklebolt in turn inclined his head at Dumbledore. "Perhaps not, Albus, but you do have other talents that usually make up for it, one of them being your long list of life experiences," he said with a faint smile.

He then sobered, and continued. "Mr. Potter, we in the Order will give you all the help that you need for your part in our mission. For my part, I cannot fault you for Sirius; he knew the hazards as well as any of the rest of us. In turn, between your training and your leadership, you and your team survived to fight another day. So, in the future, please try to remember that the burden is not all yours and that you may call for assistance as needed. As you said at your induction, you cannot face Riddle and all his cohorts alone, and hope for victory. We must each do our part, great or small though it may be, and if we do this we will win this war."

"But at what cost?" asked Harry softly.

"That we do not know," Shacklebolt replied. "But I will use a slightly altered quote from a Muggle general from their last major war: 'The whole idea of war is not to die for your country; it's to make the other guy die for his.' In our world, we try not to kill needlessly; we will also do our best not to die needlessly. The rest is in the hands of Fate."

Harry stood up, amid murmurs of agreement, and spoke directly to the Auror. "Fair enough, Sir," he said quietly. "Get me where I need to be, arm me with the tools I need, and get out of my way, and I will not fail you. And the sooner that we may do this, the better it will be for all concerned."

Shacklebolt returned Harry's gaze. _Merlin, _he thought._ That boy isn't sixteen yet, and he has the eyes of a combat veteran already. What an Auror he'll make when it's time—if, by then, he still wants it and isn't burned out. This Auxiliary Order idea is looking better and better; I know plenty of adults, including some in the Ministry, who haven't the experience or the will these kids have. They're almost ready for full membership, at that. _Aloud, he said, "We will neither rush nor delay; a too-soon battle, before we are ready, will cost us more than waiting until the right time. But when the time comes, you _will_ have your support." There were affirming murmurs around the room, as Harry sat down. The rest of the meeting was taken up with the rest of what various members had heard about the event.

After the close of the formal meeting, while the members who were staying filed down to the kitchen for dinner, Dumbledore took Harry aside. "Harry, that was outstanding. I am very proud of you, for your courage to stand there and admit to mistakes. Few enough adults will do so."

"I had to," Harry replied. He could not meet Dumbledore's eyes. "If they were to take me seriously, I had to show them that I could do it. I also had to show them that we could pull our weight, given half a chance."

"You can, and you will," Dumbledore assured him. "You are also showing them that you are not willingly throwing lives away: you are not reckless. With proper training, you will be a formidable leader. Now, I think that dinner is ready, and Molly will have both our hides if we do not attend." Both smiled at that, and headed in to join the rest.

After dinner, most of the members left to return home or to the school. Many, however, stayed long enough to give the teens some encouraging words. Hagrid was one of them, almost the last in fact.

"Yeh made me righ' proud o' yeh, Harry, standin' up there and givin' yer report, just like an adult," he rumbled. An enormous hand was now on Harry's shoulder. "An' I'll say it again: Sirius went how he wanted ter go, an' yer not to blame. James an' Lily would be proud o' yeh, too. And don' yeh worry: when the time comes, an' any time yeh need me, I'll be there wi' yeh. I owe Tom fer what he did ter me and Myrtle."

Impulsively, Harry hugged his first friend. "Thanks," he said softly. "From you, that means a lot."

Hagrid returned the hug—carefully, so as not to hurt Harry with his sheer strength. "Now, yeh've done enough fer one night," he said. "Get yerself some decent sleep. Yeh can't train or study properly if yeh're tired, an' I know how hard this all was fer yeh." He let go, and gave Harry an encouraging pat. "Go on wi' yeh; I've got ter get back an' make my rounds fer the night."

Harry let go as well. "Thanks again," he said, as he looked up at Hagrid. "I won't fail you." He managed a smile as the half-Giant left with a wave, but it left as soon as Hagrid was gone.

It had taken all Harry's hard-won resolve to share his feelings with not only his friends, but also his adult mentors and Professors. Now, however, the cost of forcing himself to do so much began to hit him; he was as tired as if he had been in a five-hour Quidditch match. However, the one bright spot in the entire ordeal was that he and his friends had been taken seriously.

_I can't keep them out of things,_ he reminded himself. _Therefore, they must have allies, and the Order is the place for those._ He was interrupted from his brooding by Professor Dumbledore.

"Harry, my boy, very well done," he said with a kind smile. "Tonight, you have done more than I have to pull the Order together to its purpose. If we can maintain that solidarity, we cannot lose."

Harry met his eyes. "I hope you're right," he said softly. "I just want to win as cheaply as possible."

"We will do our best," promised the Headmaster. "Now, I think Hagrid gave you some good advice. Do you wish to stay here tonight, or go back to the dormitory?"

Harry thought a moment. "Go back," he decided. "Just because it's the weekend doesn't mean we can slack off too much."

"I realize that," Dumbledore replied gently. "But don't drive yourself so hard that you leave no time to relax. If you try to keep up a high pace, you'll fall apart. The battle is not going to be tomorrow, or next week. And just because you have a purpose and a mission does not mean that you may have no joy in your life."

Harry's gaze went down to the floor. "You know what I _really_ want now? I want nothing more than to find a nice, soft, dark corner and curl up for a while. But even thinking about that makes me feel guilty for wanting it."

"Harry, that is your body and mind crying out for a rest," Dumbledore said, a little more firmly. "You are no more immortal than I am, and you have had a very difficult week. You cannot _possibly_ prepare for training by denying the needs of your body and mind. Healing requires rest, and you are not yet caught up." He took Harry's shoulder, and gestured to the Phoenix. "Come—let me take you back. I think that Fawkes would be amenable to giving us a ride, now would you, my old friend?" This last was addressed to the bird, who obligingly turned around and flared his tail feathers. Harry and the Professor grabbed onto the tail, and all three disappeared in a flash of flame.

When they arrived in the Headmaster's office, the two Wizards let go the Phoenix's tail, and Fawkes flew over to his perch. Harry and Dumbledore crossed the office, went down the staircase and out, and headed back to Gryffindor Tower. Upon arrival, Dumbledore escorted Harry all the way to the dormitory.

"Go to bed, my boy," the Headmaster said gently, nudging Harry toward the door of the Sixth-Year Boys' dormitory. "I have something much less strenuous planned for tomorrow." Finding his roommates already in bed and asleep, Harry did as he was told, and for once slept through the night with no interruptions from either within or without.

Dumbledore went back to his quarters, slipped into his nightwear, and climbed stiffly into bed; it had been a long evening for him on top of the required walking and exercising he was doing in between bouts of equally required deskwork.

_I wonder if I shouldn't simply take a sabbatical this term_, he thought to himself. _Minerva can run this school as well as I can. But, part of my power to defend Hogwarts comes from actively being the Headmaster. I _do_ hope we find more ways to protect this place; Tom _must not_ have it._ With that resolve, he settled down for sleep. Fawkes came in and perched on his footboard, and sang quietly. Dumbledore smiled to himself in the dark, as the Phoenix song soothed him to sleep.

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